She lived to see yet another sunrise. It hailed her and presented her with the new script upon which, she’d etch the tales of her new voyage; its history first, then the tale of the new ground beneath her feet.
She would inscribe about how she’d walked in circles: the grains of sand endlessly sieving down the hour glass as the chimes of time haunted her stagnation, and the hours, days and moons snared as they fleeted.
Each time belle hid behind outbursts of forced energy and confidence, it seemed effortless to others but deep inside it drained her very existence; deep within, she was as timid as a kitten.
She’d also write about each shut eye, how they stung with stronger uncertainty, about the shrinking heart and an overstretched tempted soul. About the paths she had made simple treads on; walks of poise, short gentle steps upon grounds of great surveillance, she wouldn’t forget how one day it felt like a runway; the other, like a pirate’s plank.
When she finally began to write she said,
“Roses are red, some are black; not from a sooty tale but from its mystery, destiny and beauty…”
That was her tongue, (poetry, I mean) the only language she could speak, her knack and flair, some called it her gift and swag. Many times her muse would wonder, but anyone who knew her personally would tease that it was mostly a self inflicted break… but when it ‘came back’, she spoke on.
Belle still remembers how it all began.
With every struggle, she felt a stronger tangle. Belle found herself trapped in a foreign web; Fear limited but the heart grew anyway. That was the time when all in mind was the star. Across the sky, they were all alike, to the eye, only one appealed. The only star that shone in pride despite the brilliance of the sun.
That’s the first time she questioned the real essence of such complexity. That is when she started on her almanac of voyage….
“Once upon a November... “ Ellipses followed her inscription, alluding to the magical flashbacks that loomed in her mind. That was when she’d go into a trance and her tongue would take over.
She wrote some more, “Now thoughts of you brighten my day, more and more, what more can I say? All priceless in my heart, nothing I can pay”
Fear crippled her as she wrote, it put a shield around her heart, but they say her star melted it down and left it unguarded. She opted to make a wish upon her star, hoping she’d break from her shell to one who truly deserved.
“Whatever results from us, I will always treasure what us was, is or will be, because enough is already engraved in my heart.”
How true is her word? That’s a question we leave to fate.
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