“The Midnight Melody”

A collaborated work by the-right-to-dream and dreamtalia

As my airborne body travelled through the narrow tunnel of the atmosphere surrounding menacing clouds, I felt weightless. I was filled with a jolting sensation in the pit of my stomach as gravity violently accelerated me towards the ground… I was falling.

Appearing timid against the contrasting might of the deep blue sky, I was hurled through the air in an unforgiving fall as the actual depth of the plunge started to register in my head. Everything was a chaotic blur. Air whooshed past my ears in a deafening frenzy and it was all I could hear. Minutes went by and I was still falling. The sense of imminent death hit me full force. I surrendered myself to the plummet entirely and focused solely on the sound of the air rushing by.

 But just this time, there was another sound accompanying it. As my senses were muddled by the sensation of the sheer drop, I could not identify the source of the sound. It was meek and distorted but all the more pleasant to my ears in those last minutes. So twisting my body around in mid-air I turned my head up to the sky and closing my eyes, I concentrated on the sound alone tuning out everything else. It gently floated on the clouds and travelled towards me in a soft murmur.

  It was then that I realized the source of the sound in my mind─ it was coming from a string instrument. It had a stark resemblance to the melody emanated by my own guitar, one that I played often. The thought latched itself onto my subconscious and as I became surer of the source of the tune, I felt myself slowly slip into consciousness.

The sound kept sharpening and becoming more distinct as I transitioned from the dream into reality. Who could be playing it? The thought lingered on my mind and the melody still echoed in my ears until I was completely awake.  With a jerk I opened my eyes and with a rush of adrenaline pumping through my system from the dream, I searched about me in the darkness of my bedroom. Slightly disoriented from the vivid images still burning in my head I let my eyes adjust to the nighttime bleakness of the room, pausing a moment to get my bearings. I looked in the general direction of my guitar, on the other side of the room beside my desk. It was as sound asleep as the rest of the things in the room were, its timber features highlighted by the faint moonlight streaming in from the open window above the desk littered with piles of paper. The curtains blew with a cool breeze the open window brought in and a stray leaf of paper floated towards the ground with it.

With a slight shiver I hauled myself up and stood against the edge of my bed. Moving in to the close the window, I picked up the paper and placed it back on the desk. I glanced once again at the instrument seated silently under the muted, silver glow of the moon. There was a slight depression formed where the guitar had left its impression in the carpet. A thin layer of dust was settled on the wooden surface of the guitar from sitting beneath the open window every day. It was resting exactly as I had left it earlier that week, and there was nothing to hint of anybody else’s presence in the room. As I was turning away from the window, my eyes fell on the desk clock by the lamp. It was a little past midnight. Dismissing my confusion as part of that dream, I decided to return to sleep. About half an hour later, I then again heard the soft melody of the guitar. It was strikingly distinctive this time, having a rich timbre to it and seeming to originate from somewhere close by. I woke up to look at the guitar again but it was still nobody in my room. Further baffled by the mysterious melody, I tried in vain to provide myself with a few hours of sleep as yet again, another half hour later, I was woken up by that very same elusive melody. Beads of perspiration dotted my forehead now; I was breathless and barely able to keep my eyelids open due to the deprivation of sleep. I was restless.

  Finally making a decision to end my agitation, I stood up, grabbed the guitar by the head from its resting place by the desk and slept with it lying beside me, my arm wrapped securely around its cold, stiff surface. After that I was able to go through my sleep undisturbed: my guitar was gripped tightly in my arm and the shards of that dream did not creep into the crevices of my mind again. Everything appeared terribly still afterwards─ like the lull after the storm.

ut there was yet a strange feeling tugging at the walls of my mind, I could not shake the intuition building deep inside my stomach that something was amiss. I lay there with my eyes closed, contemplating, trying to identify the cause behind that ominous instinct.

Is it my subconscious playing nasty tricks on my mind again? 

But little did I know that it was far from the reality. I lied there in the folds of the sheets extremely still, pondering long and hard, unhurriedly going by each event of the night in my head: the eerie dream, the mysterious melody, the breeze blowing in by the open window, the stray leaf of paper, my glancing at the clock, closing the window, returning to sleep…   And as I clicked that last piece of the puzzle together, I realized to my horror that my dreadful instinct was true. A chill enveloped my spine in its vise as I had the revelation. Just then I became aware of the undulating breeze blowing in from the other side of the room. It caressed my arm that was holding onto the guitar in pure pulsating fear.  A creak resounded through the confines of the room and my blood ran cold. The thought that flooded my mind next was most petrifying.

Could…could the window have been opened? ─For I distinctly remembered having closed it.



Lost in Time

Huddling their limbs together over their shivering bodies, they continued struggling against the raging blizzard that seemed determined to wipe out every trace of life around ─ if there actually was any. Heading in the opposite direction, with bent forms and undeterred spirits, they went onward and away in search of a shelter for the night. Over the rugged terrain and frozen boulders of ice, they fortunately stumbled upon a small but hopeful opening along the side of a raised platform of ice, which, in essence, will shield them from the strong winds of the small continent like a cave. Grateful for the timely sanctuary in the tempest of snow, the old companions curled up in a fetus position to ward off the cold, and settled in their frozen cave less distressed than before.

    It was ironic how the sole reason they were driven away from everybody else and now abandoned to brave the harsher side of nature, would be their shelter from the storm─ ice. It was all one could see beyond the reduced range of visibility that the blizzard created: snow mingled with the wind howling above their heads, crunching beneath their feet; stretching all over the landscape and blocking even their peripheral line of sight. It was ice all around, dampening their spirits as time ticked by agonizingly slowly. The entire landscape looked downcast as if some irreplaceable burden was weighing it down.

They could not believe the events that bizarrely lead up to that point; the moment the weather turned amiss and directed them off course, deviating so far away from the others and abandoning them in the midst of an endless expanse of ice that appeared as desolate and forsaken as concernedly ominous it looked like.

They had been heading westward on a probing trip beyond the icy hills which marked the end of their territory, to explore life forms that managed to survive the extreme temperature so far up north, from where forth they knew, they began to tread unchartered waters. After chasing fading tracks in the snow, following vague distant sounds for hours, they stumbled upon a fresh foot-mark embedded in the soft bed of snow: one that appeared to be less than an hour old. In the thrill of the chase, they ferociously followed the straw in the ocean and somewhere along the way, got separated from their pack. A storm had picked up by the time the realized they had lost sight of their course, and then it was a blinding race against the torrential snowfall, up and down pale rugged terrains towards a reunion with the others. What they did not realize was that they were stuck in the middle of a continent most exposed to biting winds and temperatures dropping far below the freezing point than any other on the entire planet.

 It was as if losing a tiny grain on a vast camouflaging blanket of white ̶ the magnitude of an island ̶ marred with uncountable creases and folds that the very thought would send a shiver of cold fear down one’s bones. And now they were stuck with the horrifying reality of accepting the dreadful metaphor as their own inevitable fate.

                 “It’s cold, isn’t it?” the man said in a feeble voice to his companion, with a weak attempt at a joke of their current situation.

In return, all he received was a painful whimper from beside him, and a muzzle was rubbed against his leg, demanding.

“I know, boy, I don’t like it out here either. At least not in this way,” he reassured the Husky beside him that was his most loyal friend.

       Blowing out a shaky breath that crystallized around the cold night air of the arctic, he settled deeper into their alcove, hugging his thermal clothes close against his body to break the freezing breezes that blew past their hideout.

Several unendurable hours ticked by, both the explorers lay shivering in their cave of ice, upon a blanket of thickly padded snow; enveloped by a chilling atmosphere of the uninhabited place all around. The wind occasionally caressed their closely nestled forms as if taunting them of their misery, cursing harsh accusations, dancing around; howling, laughing and chanting maliciously over the bleak state they were in.

The man and his sled-dog had chased the track due north and arrived at a steep sheer drop, not reaching very far below, but fatal nonetheless should anyone fall down the slope laden with jagged-edged rocks of ice. The narrow chasm forced him to head back the way they came, in turn making him stumble upon a realization that made his stomach churn uneasily. Discovering a broken boulder of ice where their sled had crashed some hours ago when they had passed from that point in their wild goose chase of an anonymous creature, he had forgotten to keep a check of the direction they were heading and of their surroundings. In that moment it dawned on him that they had literally been running circles around one part of the terrain and so had lost their bearings. He had no idea where they were. His face contorted in horror at his finding but he could do nothing to redeem for their vain effort. They were lost in a desert, and he could do nothing but stand stupefied amid the land of the frozen.


 With a worry constantly troubling his mind, he wondered about what had become of his other companions. Do they know? He thought anxiously.

  The sound of his friend howling loudly brought him back from his epiphany abruptly. He saw that the dog had pricked up his ears, listening for some sound in the distant that apparently, only his sensitive ears could catch. The man looked in the direction his dog’s now raised snout was pointing to, but he could see nothing.

“What is it, boy?” He asked him. Looking around hysterically for some sign of what his friend’s animal instinct had sensed ̶ a person perhaps ̶ he slumped his shoulders again in defeat when he yet again saw nothing.  False alarm, he thought when his friend sat back down on the ground, as disheartened as he was.

It had been two nights since they’d been lost out here in this isolated place. Though it was difficult to tell how much time had passed in the land where there was evergreen murk for this part of the year, but years of practice had incurred in him this instinct by which he could tell exactly what hour it was. Although his mechanical clock had broken, his internal biological clock kept ticking. It had proved to be reliable so far, for it gave the impression as if they had been lost in time out here in this place where every breath seemed to stand still…where even death would stand still, unmoving.

And it appeared as if it will be where they would greet it inescapably, if the fates did not took a turn for them in time. All they needed was for a miracle to happen.

“I had never known such utter quiet,” he wrote later in his diary. “I paused to listen to the silence. My breath, crystallized as it passed my cheeks, drifted on a breeze gentler than a whisper. Presently the wind cups ceased their gentle turning as the cold killed the breeze. My frozen breath hung like a cloud overhead.”

    The man had read a long time ago this entry of Richard E. Byrd, an American Naval Officer, of his feats of exploration in the Antarctic when he had traveled there to obtain scientific data and report on polar meteorology. The words had resonated with him so strongly at that time, that he still remembered, even if faintly, the impact that they had on him.

And strangely enough, the harsh wind had stopped blowing, and with it, it’s melancholy melody.

“It was enough to catch that rhythm, momentarily to be myself a part of it. In that instant I could feel no doubt of man’s oneness with the universe… It was a feeling that transcended reason; that went to the heart of a man’s despair and found it groundless.”


The man chanted the last of the words from that entry of the winter of 1934 in his mind. It gave him a meaning to his solitude that he could not find before, seeking comfort in knowing that another person had faced the same situation he was in, regardless of if it was another time, in another continent. Though the officer was not lost physically, he had not traveled that far south for a spiritual lesson. Nevertheless, he was fortunate enough to receive it, and seek comfort in the silence of deserted the South Pole. It was out of that solitude that he had acquired a moral lesson, and the man found himself agreeing whole-heartedly with the American’s profound words.    It was unbelievable how quiet it can be when the breeze ceases to blow on those parts of the earth: how you could hear the slightest groan of the ice beneath you, the distant rustle of the breeze and the faint rhythm of your beating heart.

      He stroked his loyal companion’s ear gently, to comfort him and let him know that he would not give up just yet…that they will see it to the other side together, if not alive. He leaned in welcomely to his touch.  Suddenly, he did not think of their getting lost as a grave misfortune; he thought of it as an opportunity to harmonize with the natural forces. It was because of this revelation, it seemed, the entire landscape appeared to approve of his reflections and they were nodding their heads in unison that they had all become still to listen to his train of thoughts racing in the right direction. It was as if it were a sign, a sign that he had finally stumbled upon the profound meaning behind the workings of these forces.

    He looked up at the sky then, in that moment, to witness it transform. It significantly changed from an obscure, fading black to a stark midnight blue with bands of green and lime marking the expanse of the northern sky dotted with glistening strings of stars. It resembled an elaborately embellished drapery at its core, too magnificent for words.  But what caught his attention was a sole star in that sky, the  Pole Star, shining as brightly as ever, forever embedded into the fabric of space and never moving from its almost royal throne just above the North pole. The star was there, a beacon for travelers and a landmark for other stars that were constantly moving in the sky; they set and rose again every day, but the northern star remained impassive, waiting to greet the others each night. He stood up, pulled in strongly by the star’s enchanting aura, for it appeared to be so close he felt like he could almost touch it with his bare hands. The feeling rendered him powerless.

     In his daze he realized, his friend had gotten up too, for what it seemed like he had sensed some sort of activity in the distance. He looked eastward to the direction the dog was facing, and he presently witnessed the silhouette of a cloud of smoke rising against the night sky aligned with stark white stars.

He could not believe what he saw, but it was evident to his companion that they were lost no more. The seemingly insignificant cloud of smoke generally symbolized a signal of distress, but he knew better.

“The others are not far, boy.” he said aloud.

The enthusiastic little sled dog barked in excitement, for he knew what this meant. They no longer looked at the endless terrain of ice as a no man’s land; it signified something deeper for all the experiences they had been through in the past few days here. They were familiar with it like the back of their hands ̶ or paws. From every crevice in the ice to every whisper of the wind, they all knew these explorers well. It had come to symbolize their haven now that the man realized its significance.

They were not lost, for they were leaving their dwelling out in the desert. They were at home in the land where time stood still.

“And now we’re going to the other one,” said he with a sense of deep reverence.


The Journey of a Star


    “The journey of a million years began with the explosion of a cloud of gas, of the continuity of the endless fabric of time and space began with a single most pivotal phenomenon in the history of the universe – the big bang. 

Through that hot, super-dense state, through the ‘accident’ that took place in a fraction of a second 14 billion years ago, the expanding universe came into being which subsequently gave birth to its uncountable constituent celestial units ─the  bottom of the hierarchy of which is the star .
So let me, Time, be your host and take you on an adventure through the cosmos for a glimpse into the present and the past, through the life-journey of a star. 
It is just one among the hundred billion in the Universe, each with its own cosmic tale to tell.”


  •  “I, Stellar Nebula, the astral birthplace
    cosmic dust cloud of hydrogen circling through space,
    Born from the great reservoirs of cosmic material;
    Shining with exuberant energy for millions of billions of years,
    the infant that leads a bright life through internal fusion reactions

Held together by the stubborn force of gravitational attraction


From incubation to adulthood, with my core ablaze
giving my starlight an eternal glimmering grace

And with gravity and constant fusion,
I achieve a balanced internal state
for millions of years I evolve through life,
protostars to main sequence ones
my journey through the universe is to thrive.”


  •         “Then comes the time for my midlife crisis,
    the battle between my inside-out outside takes a dramatic turn

A burden now on me I never bore─
that while gravity continues to compress my core,
the outward push of fusion begins to falter
leaving my once-balanced state completely altered.
My inside collapses, my outside grows larger

As my surface cools off and swells up farther.

I, the Red Giant, as I eventually resolve my tumultuous state
with a new source for my exhausted fuel, outer layers that lay to waste

A temporary inner stability that soon will all be in vain
it is inevitable I know…that I’ll never quite be the same again.”

  •        “Now with my aged magnificence, I am split into two:”

“As an instable low-mass star I am slowly losing all hope,
ready to give in to gravity and go down the death slope.
Shedding my outer layers, I, Planetary Nebula am illuminated with an eerie glow
the temporary most beautiful object in the sky,
burning all my fuels relatively slow.”

“But as a high-mass star, contradictorily
with sufficient pressure and temperature to sustain fusion
Opposing gravity, my core becomes composed of heavier elements
that set off a final collapse and catastrophe,
with a much violent death in store for me.”

“Now a white dwarf, turning solid as I collapse under my own weight
Reduced to a tiny mass, death is now my inevitable fate.
As billions of years pass by, I sink into a passive state
my corpse cools down, until I become black as space.
A black dwarf  is what the astronomers call me now
and pitch-black darkness envelops me somehow.”


  “Time has come, to confront my violent death:
When my core temperature rises, I spin rapidly all around
then explode into a 
supernova, without the deafening sound.
The gargantuan explosion is a dazzling sight to behold
the electrons and protons squeezed together is what forms me, the 
neutron star next
With a highly compressed core in every context
But if I am especially massive, I may assume the form of a 
black hole
with space, time and matter all trapped within, I am left in the universe sole.”


  •         “And so the star’s journey comes to an end after an eventful life of  billions of years. Though it may seem implausible, but there is an intricate cosmic connection of the stars with us. With them being made up of the two simplest types of atoms – from which the universe began and subsequently complex elements produced by nuclear fusion at the center of the stars. When stars die, and particularly when stars explode, they recycle their newly-made elements into the cosmos. The next generation of stars then forms from this mixture of elements, as do any planets accompanying them.

But none of us would be here, were it not for the life and death of previous generations of stars, so, 
essentially… we are all made of stardust.”


This was not initially intended for this purpose,instead,as a script for a role play and was done after lots of research and help from the internet on the subject but I found it very fascinating and well, what can I say?

The stars had me gravitated towards them.



When you cross the yellow fields of tall grass billowing with the wind, you come across a low-lying fence of wild ferns growing around the edges of the trees that mark the threshold of the woods that lie beyond them. Upon stepping onto a trail visible beneath the debris of leaves ─faint but still there─ you are overcome by a sense of leaving behind everything that tethers you to the outside world and breaking free of the outlandish chains that bind you there…as it did for many who ever came here.

It is, per a rough estimation, around an hour’s trip there: through the dense undergrowths and the overcastting canopy of trees overhead, along the narrow trail of damp earth and the staccato rhythm of your footsteps intermingled with the enchanting melodies of the evasive birds of the woods. But sure enough, when you reach a crook in the trail afterwards, which can be recognized by the slightly burnt area around the hemlock trees there─ a hunting trip gone unexpectedly supposedly amiss─ which the resilient forest has been remarkably able to resurrect, gives away the way to the meadow that sits in its hiding place behind the obscuring foliage; never moving. And when you finally push past the last of the undergrowth, off the serpentine path, you leave the familiar trail meandering its way away on your right, carefully concealed behind the giant hemlock trees standing thereby. Nobody would dare imagine that there lies a meadow just beyond it, as it continues to weave its way onward and away from where you now stand.
The old meadow hits you with a deep-seated instinctual feeling of belonging so powerful, that you are overcome by the sense of familiarity that comes along with it. It takes great effort on your part to move, but you eventually do, drawn in a subconscious trance to the ancient-looking cottage build out of an array of stones ranging from dark gray to russet-colored, but every shade soothing to the eye in its carefully woven patchwork that forms the firm-looking walls of the tiny house, and perched comfortably among the aging trees around. There is a chimney made out of a similar stone as that of the walls, that sits atop the mahogany roof of the old place. Cascading down from above in tiny ringlets is a beautifully interwoven tapestry of honeysuckle vines blooming with soft-white winter flowers that just touches the ground with its tips, akin to the hanging canopy of a bowing willow. There is a faint aroma of charred wood that hangs in the mist-laden air of the approaching evening, which hints that the place was graced with somebody else’s presence before your arrival ─a notion that you would believe to be ludicrous. The place seems as forsaken as the woods that cradle it. You can see huge tiny cracks in the weathered stone walls of the house where cobwebs have started to make unwanted appearances; the thin coatings of dust drape over the window sills like a protective blanket. The hearth of the overused fireplace can be spotted under a fading shaft of daylight from the window beside the front door on the main porch and there is a faint but distinct chorus of rustling leaves stirring the winter air.

Subconsciously stepping over the short cobblestone pathway overgrowing with wild grass, you follow the sound and eventually find yourself standing in front of the lone chestnut tree that stands towering over the abandoned cottage, looking perhaps as old as the place itself. What gives away the chestnut’s age is the wrinkles and cracks in its trunk where dark green mosses have found a place to live, that one would think has been a result of years of braving through harsh weather. The windswept tree has been stripped of most of its leaves because of the winter, but yet it stands there in all its glory among its companions. The house creaks and groans as the wind starts to pick up, as does the old chestnut tree, and together they turn the cacophony of the bitter winter wind into a strange notes that bounce off the other trees and resound throughout the meadow. They say the owner of this place inherited it from his great grandfather, who himself planted the chestnut beside the cottage, eventually dying of a fever around these months but left with great memories of playing beneath it as a child in nostalgic summer afternoons. So did the generations after him, and he left them with a gift more valuable than any precious stone.

The trees whisper in harmony with the wind, as if telling you the secrets they have seen and have been a witness to all at once, that took place right here in these woods a century ago. You strain to listen to them telling their tales, feeling almost as if you were part of them yourself.As if the trees of the woods, they know you well.

And standing before the same chestnut that the old man once cared for, the one that has been around in the meadow for ages, you cannot help but feel the presence of the man himself, lingering around a while longer, patient and never moving, standing there and admiring his faithful old companion right here by your side.

Image: Enchanting Forest by Dean Scheppel


To the Stars

It was a windy night in those parts of the land due north. In an isolated house in the middle of the vast, green fields of tall grasses sat a young Irish boy by his open window as he listened in on the mysterious night sounds outside his home. The slightly cool breeze emanated a hollow whisper as it rushed past the window that he sat by, bending and swaying the trees adorning the landscape along with it.
He, with his shadow cast upon the floor from the dim light of the kerosene lamp, looked out the window at the brilliantly glimmering stars that dotted the clear night sky. The boy had always appreciated the quite time alone he got at night whenever everybody else within a mile’s radius was asleep and there were no chores or the loud banter of old men bickering away in local Irish to disrupt his train of thoughts.    During the night, he was his own unique person, unmarred by and the world that bubbled to life inside his head was another parallel universe altogether.
His thoughts drifted from the trees scattered all over the landscape towards the beautiful tapestry of stars embroidered to the endless fabric of the night-time sky. And then again, he wondered about the enormity of the universe in its entirety and how we were all just small specks of dust compared to it.

Will I ever be able to discover for myself what lies
beyond those stars?  He thought sadly.

Unlike many of his elders, he could not just settle for the less for he could not believe that life was solely about getting up in morning at the strike of dawn, going through the day and being back in our unmade beds again by nightfall. This monotonous approach towards life never appealed to him. He had always wanted to witness a miracle, to witness the larger truth that synchronized with the working of the cosmos…the truth that might set his caged soul free. It was in those moments that he truly did feel alive, with adrenaline pumping through his veins and being intensely aware of every detail, of every sharp, distinct sound that was carried towards him with the wind in the vicinity outside his bustling mental world; when both the realms surrounding him worked harmoniously inside-out.

The lamp by his worn-out bed flickering with its last dying breaths captured his attention suddenly and brought him back from his far-away thoughts and with a jerk, he realized, inclined his conscious to the extreme – to this side of the weight balancing both the realms.   Sighing inwardly, he looked to the low-lying mountains just visible behind the coniferous tree-tops and settled for admiring their dark silhouettes against the starry sky, which only magnified their brilliance by tenfold. His gaze lingered on them for a prolonged minute when, out of the blue, he saw something he never thought he would.    Unable to believe what malfunctioning workings of his mind might conjure up something quite like that, stupefied and shocked to his core, the lad quickly scrambled to his feet and hurriedly rushed past the exit and was immediately enveloped by the deafening silence outside the fields surrounding his humble abode.

A voice in the back of his mind kept repeating the same question – could this be?

Squinting in the dark, he tried to get a hold of his surroundings in his blinded daze. But the adrenaline circulating through his blood had amplified ten times and it made him acutely aware of every minute detail.
Again he looked for the same mountain he had seen earlier…but it was unnecessary.
The brilliant puff of cloud slowly climbing up the mountain-peak in undulating waves was unmistakable. It was frozen in time and space, much like his humbled self.

Tonight, I at last glimpsed a small piece of cosmos through my own eyes.

The robust man in his early twenties with an erect posture, graceful gait and a commanding aura that he held onto around him now struggled to push on his feet forward as the elevation increased with each passing hour, with his back hunched over under gravity and his feet treading precariously around pointed rocks and deformation on the rugged surface of the mountain. Despite the chill in the weather way up here as it had seemed, beads of perspiration dotted his forehead and his face was flushed – both from the chill of the atmosphere and the exertion against nature’s laws to ascend him upwards. Though the mountain was still blanketed with a layer of wild grass, little hints of white blotches here and there were beginning to speck the mountain’s hood of olive-green. The atmosphere was thick with the cold and a slight mist enveloped him as he continued his tread along the treacherous path

“I am almost there…
” whispered the young man, out of breath.

Having been harboring an ardent desire to see for him what the magnificent sky felt like when he would be a part of it – fused together as one – he had come here tonight in hopes of bringing that unborn dream to life. When his feet would finally leave the ground and the wind would carry him as if he weighed nothing, effortlessly spreading his figurative wings…when he would fly.

And so when he finally reached the peak of the mountain, he was not prepared for the overwhelming outburst of emotions that enveloped a man literally climbing a mountain. It was a feeling that completely enveloped his being and provided solace to his worn bones. Upon his final step, he sat down and waited there for a while, catching his breath and gathering his thoughts for what was yet to come ahead.

He sat there, taking in the vast landscape that stretched all around the mountain that was majestic when looked at from a summit; he silently thanked his gods for giving him the strength to accomplish his journey until here tonight. When his eyes had adjusted to the dark and he could make out shapes in the distance with remarkable accuracy, he glimpsed a small dot of light in the distance – one that was flickering to the sides, with the gentle wind as he would guess – and slowly, the form of an object vaguely resembling a small house came into view.

Someone else enjoys the enchanting nighttime like me, it seems.

But little did he know of how right he was, for the boy residing in that lonesome house was very much like him on so many levels that he would not dare imagine. Getting up on his feet then and dusting off his clothes, he prepared himself for the final step that would truly bring his long and tiresome journey to an end.

With a deep and calming breath, he pushed himself to the edge of the rocky peak. And with one last look towards heavens, he made the final leap.   With faith burning inside his core and magic surrounding him, he closed his eyes and let the inevitable events take its course – accelerated by gravity and catalyzed into motion by magic. The two components combined together enabled him to take his first flight.
With a bounding leap, he jumped.

Though just before the young man jumped, and before he was carried away with the winds, he saw something he was left bewildered by. He shrugged it off as nothing, concentrating on giving his final leap as much momentum as he could.
Just before he closed his eyes, the last image that lingered on his closed eyelids were that of a figure moving just in front of the small house in the field…a figure oddly resembling a human being.

And in his wake he left behind a comparatively tiny mimicry of a supernova explosion, one that burned bright, freezing space and matter in an ever-stretching time warp, but dazzling nonetheless…a conjuring of magic that was perceived by the same young Irish boy far away in the fields, standing bewildered, as a huge puff of cloud rising up with a blinding brilliance…
and slowly fading into the night.


  “A place where the meanings of life’s deepest mysteries come alive nonetheless; ‘The clearest way into the Universe is through a forest wilderness.’”

Here we go.

He walked around the dense vegetation cover, the thick undergrowth and onwards with the winding trail that disappeared far in the distance around some giant, aged spruce. There were pine-cones scattered all around him that had apparently fallen off their parent trees after reaching maturity. Some had bloomed completely, while others only partially. Strings of dead foliage turned brown over time were strewn all over the landscape. The atmosphere of the woods was thick with the cold that the winds up north brought in with them to the trees and getting it effectively trapped up between them. The wilderness was somehow rendered magical with the presence of the ever-peaceful silence down here, where no being of the outside could enter this dimension that bubbled to life with its other-worldly presence. It was always constantly changing, yet never truly moving from their spiritual place within. It was timeless.                                     Brushing aside overhanging branches of moss-covered trees above and ferns at his feet below, he breathed in the deeply rich, earthy scent of the gigantic forest in all its glory.

The forests held an inexplicable aura to them where they emanated a sense of danger and security, both at the same time. The rich timber of the insects resonated within the spirits of the sleeping trees and created a rhythmic sound with the beat of a flowing stream somewhere in the distance. But as to where…he could not quite place it. Sensing that it would gradually fade into nightfall, he saw the last of the sunlight converge at the horizon – with the dark hot on its tail in pursuit – and in a brisk lunge, the entire landscape had abruptly plunged into blackness. The sudden change in his surroundings left his eyes disoriented, and he groped around hopelessly in the dark abyss before him in order not to have his foot caught in the roots of the trees draped all around him and trip to his demise on one of the sharp-edged rocks.

Yes, the path I tread is long and rough but the journey that lies ahead has waited far too long.

As his vision finally adjusted to the absence of light, he was barely able to make out faint shadows jutting out of the ground all around him: effectively cornering him into a helpless maze of towering, green beings of varying hues right in the middle what was just the beginning of one of the coldest places on earth known to man. With the same thought in mind over and over again, he pushed himself forward on his feet across the frozen, rock-laden earth beneath him. The young cavalier’s journey to the North had never been an easy decision but once he had made up his mind, he immediately wanted to follow through with it wholeheartedly. He had lost count of how many days it had been; his sole sense of time came from watching the sun rise every morning behind the trees and then getting swallowed up again by the mountains as nighttime came around.   But the only glimmer of hope that kept him going still was a sense of belonging to this part of the world and his faithful, old companion always by his side…

The knight was so deeply immersed in his contemplating of what lay ahead that he had all but forgotten the presence of his said companion silently treading behind him at a short distance. The stout, young creature looked wary of his immediate surroundings as if unsure of what might spring out of the shadows of the murky forest. The mahogany coat of the horse was all but drowned out in the sea of black, only the light, rhythmic clacking of his hooves against the stone pathway was the indicator of any life around him. He approached his horse slowly and caressed the side of his face both sympathetically and lovingly.

“I know you are weary, lad,” whispered he to his companion“The way is long, but we must make this journey…for the fruit will be as delightful as any.

The cloak-clad man had said these words as much a reminder of their faith to his horse as much as to his nostalgic self. He was not a man of doubts, nor was he one to be deterred, but with the hours of insatiate hunger and the lack of a sense of conformity of the future he could not help but question his faith the longer it took him to get off of this path.

Your fears are irrational… a voice in his mind reminded him quietly. You chose your path and decide to follow it. Your will is only being tested, which will keep your faith living.

The mysterious man had heard a lot of voices whispering to him in the back of his head but one had, almost every time, outweighed all…His inner voice. The one that always managed to remain calm as and whenever the circumstances demanded it. Holding onto that lone but strong voice inside of him, he halted in his tracks and looked to the skies.  There was something about the nighttime sky that had always fascinated him ever since he was a child, but what he saw then directly above his head was something that had completely knocked the ground off from beneath his feet. An entire blanket of midnight blue sky had gathered all the stars there were in the universe was what it seemed like. The twinkling stars held onto it as if they were diamonds embroidered into a piece of endless, velvety fabric that held the knight captive like a curious, little child listening in on bedtime stories from his mother in a surprisingly attentive and utterly caught in a trance state of mind. There were bands and strings of astonishing, bright colors ranging from a bright lime to deep sea-green hues similar to light strokes of fluorescent paint that had been carelessly splashed as a beautiful tapestry all over the fabric. .

Aurora Borealis? He wondered dumbfounded. This is a sign. It means I am close…

The old preacher had told him all about the colorful bands of lights seen in the sky near the North Pole and how they were as much landmark to the lost struggling to head in the right direction as much as was the Pole Star that hung over the north pole like a beacon of hope in dark times. But what he had not told him was of the striking beauty it held to the weary traveler and the hope it revived within them to continue their journey. It was a sight so soothing and calming to his nerves after hours of emotional turmoil inside him that he felt his spirits lifting again, to a place so high above the mountain peaks adorned with frosty, white snow and gradually soaring even higher to the endless fabric overhead and touching the stars embedded in it with their longing fingertips. Never in his entire life had he – the brave young man ready to take on the world to find his way through its truer meaning– experienced something as simple as a glimpse towards the heavens to be such a strong catalyst in relieving his frayed nerves and bringing about the broken pieces of his lost and helpless self that was worn to his bones. The path that had brought him to this suddenly felt a lot less hopeless and the aged forest through which it wove its way out here like the human spine connecting to the mind seemed a lot more beautiful under the starlight that shone down on them from the heavens above. And in those moments of his journey, the cavalier remembered once again, the words that had led him through with his choice this far…that had led him up to this point:

At night the forests,
they emanate an eerie glow their spirits radiate deep within them
like a thousand tiny embers crowded together
Flickered by the wind that stoops low.
And from within the cool shades of these bent trees,
comes an aura of inexplicable security
That cannot be put into words or has ever been
For the weary refugee of the night that seeks comfort
…And thoughts that hoard anything but purity.
Where the meaning of life’s deepest mysteries comes alive nonetheless;
“The clearest way into the Universe is through a forest wilderness.”

That is when, in repeating those words in his head over and over, had he realized their true meaning.   For never before in his entire life had he felt so connected to the wilderness…and in turn, to the Universe.  They both seemed to be fused together as a whole rather than two different entities in that moment of time.He felt reborn; he felt complete. He could feel no doubt of his oneness with the Universe and he sensed the feeling coursing deep through his veins. He felt the newly found energy resonate within the deepest marrow of his bones. For the briefest fraction of a second, he could feel the universe all move together in sync and the order that radiated in the depths of his soul… …He had found his muse.

The clearest way into the Universe is through a forest wilderness.

And the timeless wilderness had once again led a man to a home deep inside his core, to the universe…within his subconscious self.


I have been told a truth about trees, and I have seen it with my own eyes: that in themselves trees are…a lot like humans in nature. A nature, that reflects on their outsides as well as ours.

A tree full of himself to the brim and overflowing with arrogance would stand erect in pride fully conscious of its worth and offer nothing to the weary travelers that come to it seeking shade.

But on the other side, a tree kind and loving in his heart, would bend towards the ground with the weight of the fruits upon his shoulder that he offers to the weary man; a mark of his gratitude, his sweet fruit, that he passes on to the lost man in his time of need who every so often comes to the tree to ask for its help.

And unlike the other tree, this one bows down to greet his seekers and forever shall be welcoming to their needs until and even after, the day it leaves this world…till the end of time.

And then I ask myself the question: “If I had to choose between two different people-each opposite of the other-like between the two trees, would I choose the one that stands erect in pride or the one that bends down in front of others merely due to his humility?”

But then again I wonder…what would you?

To sum it all up then, from that point itself, I dropped all the questions on the side of the road right there and climbed upon one of the trees, to get a new perspective-

And I found the bearer overpowering both the sides of the coin, whichever you turn.

…so now I don’t wonder, I know.