My
eyes awaken to the sight of a marvel of land. From that which my vision holds
endeavor to convince my cognition, I am in a vast forest of enchantment.
Forthwith, I assess I have fallen into the envelopment of a dream. My
surroundings are too transcendent of fantasy to not be figments of an
imagination of mere slumber. If thus, tis the uttermost realistic and beautiful
dream I ever have had. I fail to recollect a solitary dream of my life which
enabled me to see in such clarity and feel emotion thus approximate to reality.
Perhaps I have been waylaid by the guile of death at unawares in my sleep and
brought to the afterlife of my mortal world. I fail to determine. In
confession, I honestly care not. My soul is too bound to its peace to question
its contrivance or be resolute to distinguish truth from the guise of its
antithesis. It is sufficient truth that in my heart, there lingers happiness.
It is tacit, and it is small, though it diffuses throughout every vein of my
body from the steady beats of my heart. My eyes cannot blink, my mouth cannot
close, and my mind, henceforth, has wrought in its solemn subconscious the
intent to traverse into the midst of this dream forest of sweet serenity and
beseech the origins of what conjures the rapture of my being.
As
I stride across the gentle woodland ground and gaze about my fantastical
circumambience, I take heed that the forest is scattered with innumerable small
blemishes of light. They hover fluttering with the crisp cool air without
wings, of all different colors and sizes. They are floating, almost dancing, to
the most serene sound to have ever conducted my ears. The forest is under the
incantation of a mysterious melody. It whispers with the wind as a herald of
comfort to my skin and the muscles and bones beneath it, until I am forced to
yield to the impulse to stand without motion and permit my eyes to shut. By
listening to this song of allurement, I feel I am weightless. I feel neither my
legs, nor any limb at all, although I receive a soothing chill traveling up my
spine. Who, or what, is accountable for producing such a sound of spelling
nourishment? I open my eyes to detect the floating light gradually moving
about, somehow aware of my presence and welcoming me into their land. What
could they be? Are they living entities, or sheer adornments of occult
illumination? Ever what may they be, undoubtedly these spirited lights furnish
a supplementary definition to the rudimentary essence of life and marvel of
this forest, not unlike the prominent abundance of the trees, so lofty a
multiple of twenty-five in my height would ascend only halfway up the rinds.
The trees flourish with pure green leaves and deathless bark, unmarred by age
and decay. The area is deeply wooded, prevalent in trails diverging in all
directions, rich of soil and capacious in width, providing explicitly advocated
exploration throughout the forest, arousing indecision of where to venture, if
one could take venture into this wood with unclouded consciousness. The trees
are arrayed in even equidistant rows, remaining off the pathway of the trails,
as if refusing to be an obstruction. Plenteous clusters of leaves enwrap the
roots of every tree in thin tangled vines. No branch of a tree could be
perceived to the medial eye; growth of the branches abides at the summit of all
the trees. The leaves growing from the peak of each tree coalesce with one
another and compose a ceiling for the forest as a veil for the sun. In lieu of
the attempt by the leaf begotten canopy to hinder sunlight from above, the sky
illumines unencumbered through the leaves boundlessly throughout the entire
forest, striving to warm the soil and nourish the gentle blades of grass below
in smooth visible rays of light upon the ground, perforating the leaves in
exposing countless glowing vents in the ceiling of green, in a semblance that a
cluster of fitful stars is shining in daylight abroad. I neither measure nor
comprehend the magnitude of my own astonishment. Might a mystical foundation
reside hereupon the ubiquitous wondrous aberration?
Unperturbed,
I wander en route the multitudinous paths of the forest as one diverts into
another with admiration and wonder in my mind and heart, seeking neither exit
nor destination. The disseminated particles of light counsel me with
unascertained designation as I pass through the wooded sanctuary. They are
whispering to me. Their language eludes my comprehension, for only placid
zephyrs of complacency I perceive in their subliminal intonation. As I
undertake this journey with the melody of forest wind, another sound is marked
by my perception. It is neither nor incantation nor wind, but a conduction of
an aqueous symphony. As it breaches the peripheries of my ears, I dwell upon
the vista of running water in a nearby radius. Expeditiously, my consciousness
elevates to a formulated intention to unearth the origin of this extrinsic
stimulus by further exploration, and by the rejuvenating tranquility that
courses throughout my enamoured embodiment, augmenting for every passing moment
of pressing into the sunray pierced groves of dust borne scintillation, a
vaster penetration of these entrancing recesses I indisputably now wish to engage.
The
path underneath my feet proceeds to run into an accessible archway in one
interminably elongated array of trees. Shaped by curving branches from two
separated trees on each side, the covert is positioned in the center of an
extensive wall of abreast trees, distending through the wood with no visible
culmination in either direction to indicate a finitude in length, and moreover,
the inclusive amplitude of the entire woodland realm. Because of what
compression of space there is between the unified growths of the trees; one
cannot view what abides beyond this unending alignment of trees save the trail
I hereupon stand veering into the untrodden bowels of the forest through the
archway. I approach the shadowy threshold of the trees and traverse the arched
ingression in the sequence of trees, resuming my dilatory stride upon the trail
as it alternates its path left behind the seemingly infinite forest wall
wherefrom I take emergence. As I reinitiate my observation, I give ear to the
distant liquescent sounds of which I incline to espy and tread onwards as the
trail carries my feet leftwards and regulates my path alongside the inner right
of the endless line of boles. I gaze to my right and descry a greater quantum
of abreast trees growing in innumerous parallel rows, permeating illimitably
into an abyss of deep amber, extending far into the edge of sight where naught
is seen but nebulous effulgent twilight, emanating inexplicably from the
impenetrable wilderness. The solitary trail I walk educes expansion without
conceivable exit or terminal; merely ceaseless distance on a seemingly
boundless path that renders neither reluctance nor struggle to travel abides.
The branches never desist to amaze me with their sheer deficiency of
obstructions before my limbs and eyesight. The ground is composed of a
harlequin soil carpet, creating a general terra firma of the land. The
brightness is relatively deficient here compared to outside the tree wall
beside me, and not one ray of light succeeds in penetrating the roof of leaves
throughout the orange-brown domain of equidistant tree rows fading into the
incandescent haze of unknown. In the midst of the wood, leaves exhibit a darker
hue of green and the soil a hue of darker auburn than they would had they been bathed
in direct sunlight. The sunlit expanse outside of the wall is cultivated with
bright tender grass, yet not a single blade of such resides aught about the
reddish-brown soil enfolding the lighter brown trail underneath me. Blemishes
of light continue to glide throughout the atmosphere, and the sounds of water
draw nigh with every step taken. These auroral flares are speculated to be the
sole forms of life, save the trees, that occupy this forest, assuming they are,
in truth, living entities. No indication of the presence of archetypical forest
creatures can be read. The conveyance of enchanting incantations amidst the
mysterious vacancy propagated naught but an omnipresence of peace, as the
enigma of habitational conscious life protrudes on the rustles of the forest
wind. After a quantum of ambulated length along the inner periphery of the
amber hollows, broadening in circumference with the indefinite range of my
footsteps there lays a point of light, evincing far into the distance of the
interminable promenade. I draw toward the light as it magnifies in space,
portending to be an entrance to another distinctive segment of the forest.
Grass comes forth into view, followed by sunlight as brilliant streaks thereof
find strength to pierce through the leaf cloven zeniths to reach for the
ground, fading upon descent. I advance along the dwindling road and prepare to
traverse the imminent brink of more unexplored arboreceous
tranqulity. Anon, I predict to encounter what is responsible for the
incitement of my inexplicable perceptions of a semblant body of water within
this wood.
I
withdraw from the shadows of the tree-ensconced trail and step foot into what I
could concede to be the heart of the whole forest. Before the astonishment in
my eyes, a wide glimmering waterfall of blue and white gently descends from an
altitudinous mass of grey stone, cascading into a crystalline river and
streaming into opposite directions of left and right with bending currents,
encircling the shelf of rock, until they flow parallel to each other and head
into the direction I am facing. I form the conclusion that, from any other
location of the forest, this region cannot be seen nor discovered, as I had in
no way attained the adequate vantage of espying this place from anywhere I have
wandered antecedent to arriving here, which apparently could have only be done
so from the path I had undertaken, as no other route can be detected leading
into this wide-open sward. The trail I am on comes to a cease not far ahead.
The encompassing trees construct a rigid perimeter for this terrain. Assuming
where I currently stand establishes accurate utilization for cardinal
directions, the wall of contiguous trees expanding far south with the length of
the long-distant trail horizontally diverts westward ere extending north again,
designing the western wall for the area, as the parallel rows of commeasurably
dispersed trees to the south issuing endlessly to the east in amber wilderness
come to a finite boundary in a line of trees of equal length and contiguity to
the one on the west, enacting the second half of the southern wall for this
area that is punctured solely by the trail I stand on. As the leftwards half of
the southern wall diverts from horizontal to vertical to create the western wall,
the rightwards half emulates this function in order to form the eastern wall of
this enclosed forest land. As the river streams in vertical rows at either side
of the waterfall, great boles arise from narrow edges of grass that extend as
hindermost as the stone mass, which projects the current of a pouring river
quite higher than my sight can assess, coming forth from a region of higher
elevation in this perpetually expanding forest. The parallel east and west
rills of the elevated cascading river flow far toward the trees forming the
northern wall of this land that separates in the center for the inaccessible
rock occupying the waterfall, before they diverge east and west once again,
circumnavigating the east and west walls of abreast trees, into the endless
unknown bounds of the forest. Despite how much grassclad turf there is void of
tree growth in this wide sward, the branches atop the peaks of the tree walls
permeate over the naked sky with indefinite eccentric length and enshroud near
all omission above revealing the bright light of sun. The apparent flatness of
the ceiling compels one to consider the leaves lacking thickness and depth,
although from acknowledgment of the extravagant height of the bark and the
stupendous awe stimulated wherefrom, it is inferred that the height of the tall
boles may persist in growth beyond the lowest branch, greatly surpassing as far
as what eyes can see, with altitude perhaps equivalent to or more than that of
the bark unmarked by branches. In spite of the awe that should induce whatever
inference to my mind, the magnitude of everything perceivable in this wondrous
grove can remain naught but immeasurable.
In
this rigid widespread glade, my trail comes to a cease at the bank of a spring,
where the waterfall rushes undeviatingly into as the beating heart of the
river, in the conduct that this wooded domain enclosed by the tree walls
functions as the heart of the forest itself. The spring is outspread, yet
shallow, and rounded at the bank. Had it not been for the waterfall to cohere
with the north of the spring and the two opposing rivulets flowing at the
northeast and northwest corners where the water deepens, a perfect circle would
be the spring. The base of the waterfall is clouded with a layer of mist, fresh
and clean, expanding outwardly and thinning as it levitates further from the
pure pouring water. The spring sparkles with countless winks of light while
beams of sunshine dance over the constant gentle ripples of the sacred river
heart. Beneath the shallow pool lies a flat floor of white stone, put into
emphasis from the shining transparent surface of water. Arousing my sight from
the captivating burnished waters are the floating lights coming forth
unheralded from all eaves of the forest and all angles of the surrounding
trees, with some materializing from the flowing rivulets, drawing towards the
center of the spring in a steady hover of elegance, as if by a nameless
preternatural force of its existence.
What
is this place? For an instant, my head is unable to turn. The fantastic
spectacle of this environment has caught my eyes by the unyielding grip of its
beauty and has refused to secure their release. All is received in an
overwhelming breath of air that is not drawn from the world I know and inhabit.
This forest, it is something that could only exist in my dreams, but the unreal
beauty is so real that it is impossible to be a dream. It is a paradox that is
too unexplainably puzzling to comprehend. Thus it is I resolve to believe in what
my eyes behold. I know not where I am, how I was brought here, how this place
came to be or the purpose of my presence, but my ignorance has contrived not a
remote ounce of disquieting reluctance for me to herein abide.
As
I gaze upon the crystal spring, there begets an endeavor to draw me nearer. I
feel my heart absorbed by its pristine essence, as if imploring me to come and
lave in its purity. From the depths of my subconscious, I approach the pool in
steps of leisure. The crisp scent of spring water courses throughout my senses
in the immaculate air. The closer I advance, the more I feel particles of soft
mist fly from the fumes of the waterfall and clasp onto my skin, purifying my
exterior. At final, I become aware of that which I desire. I strive to come in
contact with this water. For my subjective perception, this is the destination
I have been manipulated to seek by the entrancement of the forest subsequent to
my eyes awakening to the undimmed light of the land. Do I tread within a dream
and nothing more, merely a facade, an illusion of reality? In furtherance of
seeking the truth, I must relinquish the inhibition of my discernment wherein
all is assimilated through ocular vision, and I must harness a more
disillusioning aspect of consciousness. I must thence transgress the confines
of a dream and immerse myself into what I may truly convince myself to be real.
At
length, I lower my left knee to the land of green, where it fades into the
white stone basin of the spring. With it at its most shallow depth right before
me, I insert four fingers of my right hand into the water, penetrating the
surface. As I feel the cool invigorating temperature and alleviating texture of
the water, an eerie chill engulfs my body in abruptness, fortifying my senses.
I feel my life essence, my spirit, begin to lift, as if an insidious unseen
entity is taking hold. I remove my fingers from the lucid water and raise them
to allow the pure droplets of water to flow down my hand to my wrist, and after
a brief absence of awareness from a refreshing pleasure, I descry the coming of
a sudden transpiration. The center of the spring is beginning to rotate into a
vortex, spinning outward at a gradual pace, steadily increasing in size. From a
simple touch of physical contact, a whirlpool has arisen in this spring, giving
it the form now of circular perfection. Have I disturbed the tranquility of the
spring, the forest, with my overpowering curiosity? What is the cause, and what
is the meaning, of this unintentional stimulation in this once placid water?
The more rapid of its spin and the larger of its becoming prompts more the
anticipation instilling me within. As the rotating current reaches the edge of
the basin, I elevate myself to a standing and take steps away from the
sunlight-flushed water thus may I sufficiently observe the progressive effects
of my unintended disturbance.
I
walk rearwards to an adequate vantage point and stand in a compound of awe and
apprehension. As the eddy turns of its counter-clockwise motion, the lights of
the forest eaves emerge from all about in abundance higher than ere, floating
towards the spring and vanishing into the core of the vortex. The greater the
quantum of luminous dots of colored light absorbed by the uncanny influence of
the whirlpool I have inadvertently called forth, the further the accession of
the strength in the wind. I gaze above and all around to mark the leaves of the
trees stirring about with the forest zephyrs. The blades of grass forming the smooth
gentle ground have become a rippling sea of green. The breeze of the wind
builds in intensity, an elemental gust bred from the face of the waterfall. As
intense and fervent as the blasts come to be, I perceive it is however of no
manner furious or indignant in its vehemence. It is of no way unpleasant or
afflictive to my senses. In all honesty, the comfort it brings to my skin
incites a subliminal wish for a decline in any probability of desistance. The
brush of the wind soothingly caresses my arms and face with assuasive intimacy,
persuading me to permit my eyelids to lower and close while I raise my chin and
bring forty-five degree angles to my arms. I am at a state of peace so
tremendous with the risen speed of the wind; I attain the delight in curving a
smile to my mouth. The longer I dwell within the bounds of the spirited wind;
the wider the bending of my smile with comfort in exposing the teeth. Airborne
I feel I have become, as if my feet and body in whole are levitating above
ground, while my hair is cast off of my face with the drifting gust of the air.
What contributes also to my sensations of internal and external serenity is yet
another attribute held by the vessel of my subconscious. My ears have
consequently come accustomed to the continually emitted incantations of the
forests to the extent where the persistence of its sound has emphatically
transcended my awareness. As the whirlpool of the spring cimcumvolutes
meanwhile the vigorous winds breathe with a growth of alacrity, the melodious sounds
heighten in volume. At this realization, I open my eyelids and relax my arms
thus to focus my perceptions on my surroundings. The delicate voices I knew ere
have amplified more prominently to my ears. It is as if light, nature, and even
magic, are the instruments conducting this music, for the sounds are too
enchanting and mystical to be the creations of a mortal being. The art invokes
supernatural presence, as this mysterious sound manifests no provenance to what
could possibly be an aspect of the world I know, but in contradiction to this
consideration, from the incantations, a soft calming voice now projects itself
into the wind, one that is seemingly produced by the auditory force of a human
vocal, indicating the possible habituation of a conscious entity other than
myself in this forest, but this vocal enchantment is delivered by no human. An
angel, or an entity in possession of similar, if not more, preternatural
beauty, could only convey an anthropomorphic song this magically beautiful. I
believe not that angels exist, yet I believe not a paradise such as this world
of sun-shimmering leaves could exist the same, so I suppose I do come convinced
that all occurrences of this forest at this instant are of true reality to
abrogate all distrust, in spite of my wonder and failure to understand the
meaning of any, and all, of this phenomena. If the developing magnitude of the
incantations is not of sufficiency to remark upon, the beams of light from
above the forest ceiling of leaves are illuminating at a greater luminosity as
well. The sunlight is erratically altering its primary white hue to a golden
yellow hue of sharper brightness, as if twilight is now descending upon the
forest. The behavioral patterns of the forest are simultaneous to where it appears
as they all share an intention of signifying the occurrence of something even
more extraordinary, or perhaps the introduction, or arrival, of something to
reveal itself to me. As the forest comes to life right before my eyes and the
remainder of my sensors through the phenomena of the earth, water, and air, the
beating of my heart obtains the strength to reach the internal surface of my
chest. Something is about to arise from the whirlpool, as it now emits from its
circumference and center a mystical, glowing white luminescence.
My
eyes are fixed and determined, unable to remove themselves from the spring. The
stimulus of the sunlight gilded forest may be postulated as real with
sufficiency to invalidate the incredulity of my senses, however, how could
water possess the ability to emanate light? Before my very eyes, the crystal
blue water alters its color to a stark gleaming white, as if a star has been
born beneath its surface. The stone basin is veiled under light of shining
opacity, and the once visible elegant fumes of the waterfall are now concealed.
The light shimmers with an intensifying resplendence and expands from the pool
in lengthening rays, and in a fraction of a heartbeat, it sparks to its
superlative in brightness and an explosion of light permeates throughout the
land. The luminous flash is so sharp and overwhelming that I instinctively and
instantly raise up my right arm to shield my eyes, until it soon after begins
to fade. Once the terrain of green comes into a cloudless view, innumerable
tiny sparkling particles of colored light drift down from the air towards the
ground in a curtain of radiant dust. The rays of sunshine from above retain
their original hue. The wind digresses to its indifferent composure. I analyze
my surroundings to conclude that all has returned as thus it was ere I
submerged my hand into the cool medium, but ere I remain assured for too long,
my observations confirm that the spring shall undertake resumption of its
abnormal functions in an alternate demeanor. The water reverts to its prior
tranquility and the whirlpool spins in a declination of speed and size until
contracting to nothing, however, as the circumference of the rotation shrinks
to the center of the spring, an individual ray of light shines outward from the
center not unlike the sunlight from above; something is yet to incarnate
unheralded from the water. A refulgent gray flare now arises from the light and
suspends over the spring. The formless flare unfolds into a majestic gaseous
aura, morphing bright into the shape of a humanoid entity. What could this
conceivably be? A spectre? An angel? The soul of the forest? It appears to
be...
...A
dragon, in the form of mere spirit. In fragments of time, the dragon's vaporous
aura evanesces to where naught but light radiates from its figure, which
solidifies into a semitransparent state, as its appearance becomes clear enough
to examine in every perceptible detail. It is beautiful. It treads airborne
above the spring with elegance in a shining emphasis of beaming light, and its
exterior is flushed with the chroma of moonlit silver. The length of its
slender tail ascends to the back of its neck, and as it hovers amidst the
vapors of the waterfall, the tail gently sways from side to side. Its pointed
wings span as high as the top of its head and low as beneath its tail, on
either side. Its ears are wavy and amphibious, pointed as well. Its eyes remain
closed, as if it lingers in a slumber and its materialization failed to arouse
it. Its mouth remains shut and inactive, with no fangs displayed. Hanging from
both sides of its jaw are wide serrated tendrils, keened with three curved
prongs. A bony ridge on its pointy snout separates its thin-slitted nostrils,
and on the bottom of its chin lays a plate-like spike bent towards its chest.
Its shoulders are spiked, as its claws are sharp. Bold patterns of lines
signifying the resemblance of a transcendental entity are hewn in its neck, the
crest of its snout, the bases of its tendrils, its spiked arms, its smooth
knees and hips, and a narrow slate mounted upward on its chest. As I complete
my observations, two open eyes of vivid emerald green meet my gaze. My heart
skips a beat, and I hear the draconic humanoid speak.
"Welcome",
says the dragon, "to my sanctuary. I presume that you inquire an
understanding of who I am, and more importantly, where you are. The lights I
dispersed throughout the forest to help guide you to this spring, thus you and
I could encounter. Allow me to introduce myself." The dragon's mouth
exhibits piercing fangs while it speaks with a delicate accent and a deep
echoing voice, slowly and articulately. "I am the guardian spirit of this
forest. I am the symbol of none other than the power of love. You, curious
wanderer, are now within the vastness of your own heart. All that you see
before you is merely the essence of your own bliss. This paradise, everything
you see and everything you feel, is what exists within your heart. I am the
creator of this forest. Love is that which is responsible for the creation of
such sheer perfection of peace, happiness, and beauty. However, the love that
dwells within you could have not given birth to this forest in its solitude. It
was with your love and the love of another, fused together as one, that wielded
the power to create this realm. When two souls of love are united eternally, my
power is formed; the power to conceive paradise, the omnipresence of
perfection, exemplified by all that exists around you, thereof all that exists
inside you." The dragon spirit shut its eyes and smiled. "Oh wanderer
of the depths of your own heart, I will reveal to you the collateral of my
power. You shall dwell within this forest alone no longer. Behold, my eternal
gift… to you." The dragon spirit raises its hands perpendicular to each
other, beginning to conjure a shining sphere of luminous spell-craft between
them. Flares of white and colored light emit themselves from the rotating
energy ball, with a building increment of its size, rays of light cast in all
directions, and consecrated celestial sounds resonating into the forest
atmosphere, and after withdrawing its elbows, ere I could blink, the dragon
spirit casts a powerful beam of illumination from the energy ball with a thrust
of its clawed hands, and with an ultimate projection of vehement sound, yet
another explosion of light blazons the entire world. I am completely enveloped
by light, and for a few moments, my existence absconds from all space and time,
and I see nothing but luminous oblivion, although when the illumination fades
into sparkles of glimmering colored dust to gently descend to the ground before
my eyes, something comes into view that was not here present in antecedence.
The dragon spirit had taken its departure, but something else had superseded
it, or more eminently, someone. She is facing the waterfall, standing before
the spring. A young woman, with sleek hair, dressed in exquisite raiment of a
white gown. Is this my eternal gift the dragon spirit spoke of? I transgress my
frozen stance, taking a step towards her, but one step is yet all my legs bear
the strength to implement. She turns her head to her left, and soon after, she
moves her stance into my direction, her hair swinging over her face, as she
stands looking upon me. I never thought I would come to believe it. Angels do
exist, for there is one here, the quintessence of angelic existence, beheld of
my conscious vision, lest it be deceived by some sorcery. Every trait this
angel possesses is abounding with astonishing resplendent beauty. As I stare
into her astoundingly admirable eyes, I feel as though I am staring directly
into the sun, absent of the ability to fall into blindness or other sun-wrought
detrimental infliction. She smiles, and my heart without mercy is liquidated to
boiling puddle. She seems, somehow, familiar.
"Who...
who are you?" I ask, timidly. Gracefully, while peering into my eyes, she
approaches. I feel the whisper of the wind affectionately massage my skin. I
feel the radiance of her beauty enrapture my soul as she draws as near as
physical distance would allow. After a soft innocent blink of her eyes, she
speaks, passionately and eloquently, with a voice that no being in the
astronomical cosmos could hear without weeping and falling to his knees...
"I am the one whom you love, and you are the one whom I love". She
grasps hold of my hand, her fingers lacing with mine, and following a memorable
moment of staring into the empyrean stars in her eyes, her eyes close, and by
some inexplicit constellation of our souls, my eyes instinctively close as her
own, although my vision stands undiminished. I feel her presence coming nigh,
the light emanating by her skin shrouding over mine, and with a breath of
warmth that evokes a massive eruption from the volcanoes in my heart and a
supernova of all the stars throughout the infinite macrocosm, our lips link
together, and our souls unite as one.
Thereafter,
with the eternal gift of love, the gift of the dragon spirit, our united souls
drift away into the everlasting bliss of the enchanted sunlit forest.