..'on the darkest night, the maidens take their spindles down to the sea,
to wash their wool. And the wool slips from the spindles into the water,
and unravels in long ripples of light from the shore to the horizon,
and there is the moon again, rising above the sea...
Only when all the wool is washed, and wound again
Into a white ball in the sky,
can the moon-spinners start their work once more....'
The Moonspinners by Mary Stewart
Are you happy?
No,i am NOT!
Because i hate people...
Do people love you?
I don't know ,i don't care..
Who do you think to change your life then?
What?Should i love somebody first?
It was visionary to drop me on an isolated place,far away and hidden from one's eye,mostly overlooking the sleepy valleys,to turn their rayless view into crimson waking,while craving for the smell of sweating landscapes and easy treads on mellow grass;when the first sounds in the air are bird's shrieks instead of human voices,and you find it so comfortable to watch white and dimly clouds,and hunt for a rarity.
I used to plunge my forehead into fresh and clear spring water,then resembling my grandma,i scooped up some water with my hands and splashed it on my cheeks against spells;then,i usually joined flapping butterflies,amused by stunning smells of the fields,fully decorated with garland of flowers,bountiful and irresistible in the blistering sun.The memories came to heal and fill me with vigor,acknowledging that the first impressions are the truest,afterwards everything is subjected to the judgment and estimation,along with a spare time you can easily send into forgetfulness;....everything worth admiration is only the shine of first look and touch!
And the silent voices ripped the heavens,ardent and lunatic,roaring above the reasonable life,drawing me into madness,as it does a rising star,inscrutable and relentless,whispering that beyond the sight,you become understandable;a quiet reminder of unfulfilled dreams and how far they reach,for you must be able to respond to the omens.And like a free bird,i sent my smile into the ether,joining sleepless souls to strive for another appearance and meet the Gods.
-What is your dream?
-I have no dreams,they abandoned me and left me desolate,with faint expectations...,,.but
-Yet,something is wrong..?
-I can't live without my dreams,it is hard to bear up against this pale life,it can easy be mistaken for death.. without sights and colors,without fear and hopes,without lightsome smiles and spontaneous look, without cries and premonitions,each one of us becomes a ghostly appearance,like a walking zombie... .and we omit memories,our live monuments,to follow one's dreams and accomplishments.
The second one said:
-I forgot how to pray and believe..all my life i trusted people and they betrayed me,now i want to revive prayers and faith..
-I wish i fell in love!My loves failed,and i miss the thrill and beauty of emotions and passion..i didn't believe one would love me back
-I want a place with different view,to vary its colors and rise beyond habitual and pale sights,bringing some magic and the virtue of a new beginning..
The day has passed so quickly that i easy could mistake the crimson stripes of the departing sun with blushing of the dawn.
"Artwork: © Kinuko. Y. Craft, All Rights Reserved www.kycraft.com
As the twilight approached,the late sun splashed its bloody rays,embracing the vividness of ambiance, and so,impressing everything in the reach to look for quietness and portly sights.I walked on the orange sand,following little,softy,and lofty footprints,along with rising bliss around,and thought of how all rushed to take the shape of dreamy valleys.It was restful exposition for me,to witness how scarlet and flagging body made a contract with gloominess,yielding to the passion of a dream,caught in the blurriness of birth and death for a short time.
And i forgot my earthly landscapes,greenness and blueness,and the madness of nature bargaining for our attention and understanding,for being intensely merged into the silence,when the quietness releases my mind from unpleasant things,making me truly feel the advantages of solitude,and myself an enchanting princess,privileged in its vast and mystical reign.
Gloomy shadows walked by my side,and i bestowed my willingness to stay calm .My curious and captive eye observed plum hoods and cloaks,and i felt luscious and airy odor of death.The mix of such a surprise and uniqueness,paralyzed me,and i kept walking.Then,a deep revolt rose inside me,a recognizable fear of evil,rooted deeply in my nature,but i found very soon that upcoming illusions and fanciful occurrences were more pleasant than the common inheritance,and i adapted myself to strangeness of unseen scenery.
The fairies crowned a lake with indigo-like reflection drawing its serenity from the deepness,elusive and impenetrable to disruptive and permeative shadows of a lavishly and cascading surrounding.Sitting around the marbling surface,occupied with sprucing up their glittering skin and pompous outfits,they seemed inaccessible and distant,released from any infamous and mean thoughts,and restrained from any aspiration,holding themselves in devotion to inner self,serene and calm.The starlight lavishly glinted over thin bodies,pouring out its polish in admiration.
I asked permission to be welcomed by the Sublime Lady,who possessed the magic of healing
On the east side of the moon,the legend says,a Heavenly Mag,who was the first to establish an order for its residents,felt angry for not obeying his will and command,and made that side of the moon never see the light,staying in darkness and isolation forever.The exception was an aged castle, to hold its position to these days,as a room for special performances and rituals.The walls are filled with kunzite crystalline stones,transparent and light,giving you an illusion of the ablaze daybreak,when all the prayers and spells begin,and you feel protecting and fluctuating energy to circle inside you.Soon after i touched my skin,now refined and smooth,sheen and splendid,i knew i would be permitted to appear to the sublime fairy,being absolved from impiety of my common human nature.The moon's denizens nearly forgot the pain and injustice humans made them,by taking away life from the moon,and leaving its terrain isolated and thirst.
Once they showed me the crater hosting a byzantium glazing lake,to give away love secrets to anyone who reflects himself in the silken and mystic shadows.For moon was born out of the greatest love,conceived in God's vision of two beautiful habitable planets to orbit each other and feel enamored forever.But the story took different course,and Earth received majestic light to nest life,while moon stayed in stillness and darkness,immersing herself in dreams;if you ever want something so desperately you must look up to the glowing rim,an absorbing power of the undefined and infinite.The moon performed its duty proudly,throwing golden shine across the earthly paths,constantly keeping the attention of curious walkers,who are pretty much aware that nobility and sublimity are equal to craving.
When the midnight marked the top of the Rosebud Hill,the Sublime Lady entered the cordierite anteroom where i and one of fairies,impatiently waited for her.
Mary Stewart novelist
Kinuko Y. Craft is one of the most widely respected and well known fantasy artists in the United States today. She considers herself a story teller. Her past commissions have included paintings for the book covers of many well known fantasy authors, opera posters, fairy tale books and covers for many national magazines
to be continued
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