All The Red Strings.

Once in a while I’m going back to my roots. To all the places that were my homes at the times. 
To the small town in the west of the country, nestled in the hilly landscape with forests and woods all around, where I grew up. 
If I have time, I might pop in the old spa town where I tried to learn how to adult and failed thanks to my teenage “know-it-all” attitude. A place of most of the “first times” and “rebellions”. But I haven’t been there for ages.
Another stop is in the beer city in the south. There I finally learned how to adult, I found my first proper job, I studied uni as my dad wanted me to, I was blessed to become part of amazing group of friends who shaped me immensely.
However, I’ll never skip that dreamy village where it seems as if the time had stopped. I found there my second family and great love. And equally great heartbreak. And even though the bond that originally tied us together is gone with my lover, the family will always welcome me with arms wide open.
All these are in my heart forever. With all the people I loved, with whom our paths had to part years ago. 

But there’s a tiny red string still connecting our souls.
It’s been a year since my last visit and an awful lot changed in my life. Breakup/escape from one sided relationship, wild times as a party animalI as a reaction to it, seeking a shelter in a girl’s heart, saving Dragon slayer and The Broken Man so I wouldn’t have to think about my own damaged armour, Christmas just by myself- and then, finally, when the old year died off in the fireworks, the Moon-of-my-life found me, hugged me so tight, that all the little pieces fell in place once again. 
But there are still the bright red strings attached..
In the home town, there’s The Chivalrous Knight in shiny armour dwelling. To this day he says that one day, at the end, he will marry me anyway. It was a young love, yet very fierce. And our red string survived even the stormy time of anger.
The citadel of beer is connected by many red strings to those who I was young once with. We all moved on by now; so some strings faded and some strings were worn so thin that they snapped. And there was one which I thought that doesn’t exist anymore, but only during the last visit was found… yet it caused no more pain. Never more. 
And then there is this particular string. To the family that I was almost part of. This one is strong and tricky, woven with love, laughter, tears, pain, betrayal, joy, understanding, sentiment. Nice and neat weave with few knots marking the struggles, binding me to my One in Million. 
The New Moon in Cancer just passed became the point where we reached the full cycle of running and chasing each other. Dust of the years has been brushed off and the air has cleared. We spoke. We sat at the ‘altar’ by the old oak in summer breeze, overlooking ripples on the golden field of ripening wheat. We run our fingers over the knots and we forgave each other. Now there’s only love and peace between us again. The crimes from the old days are gone and great memories have risen from the shadows. 
I am not yours anymore, you are not mine anymore. Never more. That’s why there’s Raven sitting on my shoulder. That’s why there were three others seeing us off.
Never more.


On Mythical and Phoenix. Daily Prompt.

There’s a story, a legend perhaps, about young maiden and hero, half man and half god, about how they became each other’s worlds and then scorched them. A classic of tragedy art.

Our hero was well built young chap, smart and kind, and handsome. A gentle giant in a way. Knight in heart. 

Our maiden was the wild one. Some would say she was pretty, although not the “classical beauty”. Hard on the outside, soft on the inside. That was the way she lived.

One night these two met. A magical night, indeed. He chose her in a crowd during a celebration in the town. She dismissed him few times, but he wasn’t having it. There was a loud music and she was tired after all day and he wanted  “to talk”?! He wasn’t first, neither the only one that night who tried to woo her, but for sure, he seemed the nicest and brightest (no wonder, he was a half god!). So it happened that at one moment he knelt before her, grasped her around her knees and gracefully and without any obvious effort tossed her onto his broad shoulders and carried her away from all that noise. That’s where “sweep somebody of their feet” comes from.

They fell in love. They explored, learned, grew. They loved each other well and deeply. It was young love, but certainly pure.

One day, the maiden had to leave for another kingdom. It was new to both and they were scared. But they promised to each other: “come what may, I will love you until my dying day.” But hardships of this rocky road were too much to bear. Hero, without his heroine, became sick with loneliness, he lost his will and track and eventually found himself in comforting arms of another girl. When the news reached the maiden, her world burst in flames and her heart cracked open. Three days and three nights she cried for her lost lover, scratching her skin until the blood appeared. On the morning of the fourth day there was not a single tear left, scabs sealing the wounds on her shoulders and neck. Something in her died.

Days became grey mass of eternity, no beacons on horizon anymore. All food was tasteless. Bird songs were muffled. But she couldn’t make herself to hate him.. “Come what may…”

The moon grew and shrank. Seasons passed. Then the grief melted away. She rose from ashes of her old self, beautiful and fiery again, love shining through her eyes, spreading her wings to hug and embrace and fly free. A mythical creature, immortal. “…I will love you until my dying day.”

On Tiny Cracks Filled With Gold. Daily Prompt.

There’s a¬†Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum, called Kintsugi. As an art it carries a philosophy of embracing the imperfect and instead of hiding the damage, it highlights it as a part of the history of the object.

Like scars, that pink smooth reminders you loved, lived and took the risk.. that time when he went to seek attention from another girl, because you weren’t there for him when he needed you. Your heart exploded. But you picked up all the pieces, put them together and fill the cracks with gold made of forgiving yourself and him as well. that time when you promised yourself to be more careful and didn’t do that nosedive, but slowly, one inch at the time, build up the love with all that tolerance and space he needed, but ended up broken again, not making it up to his top five priorities, even though he genuinely tried. So you went again and poured more gold in the cracks. that time you had to make that difficult decision in woman’s life and then spend three days crying and tearing your own heart, hating yourself for what you had to cast away, but knowing it’s for your good. When all the tears dried out, you added some more gold to the new cracks.

All those tiny little cracks, webbing your heart, filled with gold every time they open, will tell your story. And one day it will be story about The Heart of Gold.