The boy who couldn’t communicate

He wanted a Rose but she was a Lily. Yet she gave him these feelings he just couldn’t communicate. She would sway so elegantly in the wind, as white as angels and as green as the leaves of the oldest tree in the depths of the rainforest. She would grow wild in ground that appeared baron, she would flourish in the fields and dance by the water, butterflies flittered around limbs and kissed petals, and oh how splendid she was in the moonlight… But his eyes still averted to the red, red Rose, who carried those thorns that had pricked his heart. She climbed the trellises and ordered the most particular care, but graceful she also was, and this is where his intentions lay. For him there was no comparison, and she was a Lily when he yearned for a Rose.

But look! Here he does return, calling the Lily’s name. She watches him curiously as his eyes scan the scene. She watches him walk straight past the Rose bush as he again calls her name. He carries water, over here, over there, until at last he beholds her. Shining like clear quartz in the sun far away on the mountain top, delicately hoping love will find her and plant her in his garden. She certainly didn’t want for this particular man to entice her, like he had done so many times before, for she in fact never wanted to be a Rose… But nonetheless, she did allow him to come close once more with his pale of water (it had been a while between drinks), just in time for him to again desire that which was not his own.

The moon rose and the wind settled as the Lily stood solitary bathing herself in mothers light. The wolves howled and the owls toowooted as the fairies twirled and jigged in the womb of night, saying, “rejoice dear heart, turn your head from the past, for true love has now come, he has walked through many fields of Roses to find his special one. Now ‘tis just you that he sees as he falls to his knees, and look! He’s gently shifting the hard years that you – his dear flower, have so tenderly rooted in”.

But it seems to be to no avail, as the soil is being stubborn; refusing to let go, and he fears wounding the heart of his Lily. So his head he bows as his hands give up and he begins to weep bitter tears of sorrow. He weeps with sadness, he weeps for beauty, he weeps for love, he weeps for loss. And as his heavy tears find the earth at her feet, he sees the soil, surrender, soften, release.

Now he weeps with joy as alchemy brings rebirth; as his fingers shift the wet earth. For his dear heart has, at last, freed hers. He gently loosens the grip the underworld has upon her love, as they cradle new hope within hopeful hands. And as the new moon shines this night, in a sky of deep azure, they send their blessings to the light, and feast plentiful with the faeries. He serves moon-cakes, mushrooms and mead, and places a serving upon his altar. And as the festivities disperse with the dawn, and they lay their sweet bodies to rest in each other’s arms, he whispers more blessings to the moon; to the goddess, for this union she has bequeathed him. For he had known the Rose well, and he always yearned for a Lily.

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Tags:

dreams, faeries, hope, lily, love and rose