a story from the woods

I know a story from the woods.



A story that was never really told, so perhaps, it is not proper to call this the real story, but from the eyes of a wandering spy who once passed by the woods, let me tell you a story I have heard from the dears and the birds.



There was once an enchantress who all her life wished nothing else but happiness in her heart, a heart that was free, a heart that shares to so many others the happiness that she’s able to gather for herself. All her joys and her charm radiate in her humble little cave where many other creatures, wild and tamed, seek comfort and a home.

Many a few had once broken her heart, but hers is a free and loving heart that all the pains, together with the tears shed in the midnight rains, have all gone. There’s nothing else to seek, nothing else to fret for.



Until one day.


One day a little dwarf took refuge in the cave many-a-creatures have found comfort and home from.

The dwarf is not alike others, he’s more of a creature that laughs and silently cries all together. He’s that kind of a dwarf that knows to care but not to really show. He’s a sad little man because he doesn’t know he’s keeping sadness; as for you know, there’s only one way to rid one’s heart off of sadness and pain – that is, to let go. But he doesn’t, he just doesn’t know how. He says he’s afraid to hurt others thus he’ll keep them all to himself, not knowing though that he’s more afraid of hurting himself and that in the ways he has chosen, he hurt those he wish not to hurt – simply because he doesn’t know how to let go - and breathe. He doesn’t know much about forgiving himself as much as forgiving others.

But he’s a good little man, only afraid and lost.

That one day lead to a story of love, a kind of love that is not my business to name, a kind of love that every creature in the cave has had a name for, but who are they to know really, and who am I to meddle, too. In the end though, it is not dangerous to say that once, for once there lived love between.

But there were things to fix and the cave started to dim. The joy that selflessly radiates turned into a dark space that even the enchantress didn’t seem to have understood.
And so the ties were broken and the love, far more shattered.

This shattered far more the enchantress’ heart, a heart that once flies free has lost its tract. In her pain, and in the effort of the dwarf to not hurt her more by keeping to himself the pain, the enchantress turned herself into a bird – lost and seeking for brighter skies, under the guide of her beloved moon. The dwarf took his way, he took comfort in the schemes he’s been used of doing; he wished not to hurt her at all cost in the methods he knew – but it didn’t work, it doesn’t work. As for the universe is but a system, a thing never dies it only changes form, like the rivers and the rain, fire and smoke, passion and the cold, body and its soul, hurt and forgiving - even love, which might burn low but would never die.

Everything should be given away, not kept.

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So why did I share this story?
Because I have so loved the enchantress, that just like the dwarf, I wish to cause her no pain.
And now that she’s been slowly nestling somewhere safe, the past has turned into a ghost.

I wrote this in the hope that the enchantress, now a lost little bird sees that she’s slowly turning into a dwarf – afraid, always afraid to hurt herself. There’s nothing wrong in seeking comfort, but there is no comfort in the ‘caving in’ there’s no real joy in playing at the sidewalks; the past has slowly turned in the future, remember the universe doesn’t die, only turns and changes; perhaps this is the right time to face the fears you’ve always run away from.

Running away from the pain begets pain, hugging pain begets joy – you taught me that.

Remember that I love you, all of us loving you loves you , and we would eternally be here for you – in pain and in joy. Hugs+