Friday, 5 June 2015

I wish © by Irina Serban



"I wish to be serene enough as to enjoy the storms, To be crazy enough as to venture into the dark woods, on unbeaten...
Posted by The Whispering Voice on Friday, 5 June 2015

"I wish to be serene enough as to enjoy the storms, 

To be crazy enough as to venture into the dark woods, on unbeaten paths, and feel no fear 

To be child enough as to keep playing even under unfavourable circumstances
To be sad enough as to love laughing 
To lack enough as to not forget giving
To dream enough as to forget sleeping
To love enough to last me for an eternity.


I wish for you to live life and love life like crazy! 



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Thank you, to all of you, who are here, who stood by me, invested in me, supported me in this writing adventure, and thought about me today, on my birthday! Without you, nothing I do would be as joyous! 

I also thank all of you who criticized me, who left, who disliked what I do! Without you, I would have learnt nothing!" 

With love to all of you, 
Irina Serban _ The Whispering Voice


Thursday, 28 May 2015

Drops Of Time, Ponds Of Thunder © by Irina Serban





What a pity of Life! I saw it wandering, lowered head, arms hanging unmoved by her transparent body, sad look in her vortex eyes. Unaware of my presence, she stopped in the middle of a grey lane, which cut in two a thick forest with trees made of stone. I dreaded the whole scenery, which lacked vivacity and colour.

She sat down letting drops of time fall from her eyes. She couldn't stop crying! Drops fell and shaped themselves in a pond where lightning crossed the water making it thunder with indignation.

As I love the things filled with colour and joy, as I feel the pain of others deep in my heart, I approached her, wishing to find out what happened and maybe to help if I could, and if she allowed me to.

"Why did you lose consistency, Life? I can see through you as through an empty glass."

"Because all I am left with is empty days and waiting for tomorrows."

"Why are your eyes as black vortexes filled with sadness?"

"I am frail, thus, my power is not limitless. That black vortex you see is merciless and swallows us all."

"Is it from there that your tears come from?"

"Yes! They’re drops of time, Time that swirls and swirls, and fills the emptiness, and runs, and goes never to come back again. I see it flowing rapidly, and I cannot help being sad."

"Isn't it a way to stop it?"

"It isn't, but even if it were I wouldn't do it."

"Then, why are you sad?"

"Because it flows in vain, and people waste it waiting for tomorrows. They always say, 'I have time!', 'I'll save this for later or for a special occasion', 'Tomorrow, I'm going to call her and tell her how much I love her'. You can see the lightning, and you can hear the thunder! Not even something that beautiful and powerful manages to wake them up. They see it and hear it, too, and they still say 'Tomorrow, I definitely will do this or that!'. But you see, Tomorrow has the nasty habit of becoming Today in a glimpse of an eye, and there comes again another Tomorrow filled with promises.

I keep strong, hoping that, one day, they'll have enough of waiting. That's when stone will become butterfly wings, black vortexes will turn into blue skies, and I shall gain consistency, for the joy of fulfilling my mission will take away my sorrow."

"And what's your mission?"

"To be lived today!"

I thought I could help her. Instead, she helped me! I learnt a lot that day! 

As I love the things filled with colour and joy, as I feel the pain of others deep in my heart, I wanted my life to be joyous and colourful. So, since then, each day, I do my best at making her happy. Sometimes, I fail, but I have the thunders, which roar so deep that won't allow me to forget completely.

There is no tomorrow!

© Copyright Irina Serban. All rights reserved 


Thursday, 21 May 2015

The Fire Bird On A Cloudy Rock © by Irina Serban




(LISTEN to the story read by the author ⬆)

One night, I witnessed a unique world. I don't know if I had the eyes wide shut, and I was dreaming, or tightly open, and I was letting my imagination stray, but the sure thing is that I saw this:

Inside the core of a leaping flame a whole world made of dew reeled its existence. There lived some strange creatures—strange for us, humans, who consider their familiar surroundings normal. I'm sure if those creatures had seen us, they would have laughed at our awkwardness. That night, inside that flame, a council was being held. It seemed quite amazing to me how, in a world of water, some of the creatures had wings of fire. On the other hand, some other appeared to be crippled, wingless, or with only a stump left where the wings used to be. Up on a cloudy rock, a stately fire creature spread its wings making the whole gathering fall into a deep, sullen silence, and the whole world catch light as if the sun rose in the middle of it.

"I'm looking at you, wingless beings, you, who lower your heads and replace your smile with sadness, and I’m wondering: How can a Fire Bird lose its wings? Isn't it born from lightning, isn’t it supposed to rise from ashes, to grow wings over and over again? Should we let the dew devour us all?

It is then that I noticed the dew forming heavy waterfalls, which would furiously flow washing away some of the fire creatures. What seemed to be their serene surroundings, sometimes turned into their worst nightmare. Some would grow wings again and would spring back into being luminous, others would stay down, crawling in mud, whereas some other would become grey, and dull, and wingless. I couldn't help thinking that, maybe, you experienced something similar, too. I know I did quite a few times.

I’m sure you know that elated emotion when you're full of enthusiasm, and you feel like soaring on invisible wings. Suddenly, a storm like the ones in that water world washes away your wish to fly, or someone armed with a pair of scissors comes and cuts away your wings. And this seems to be happening repeatedly whenever the elation of flight takes a hold on you, and you forget how the fall feels on your wings. For a while you keep growing pair after pair of wings until one day, when strangely enough, there are no storms or people with scissors in their hands, but you don't feel like growing wings again. You walk on the firm ground carrying your dead soul in your arms. You look at it, see it lifeless, you know what it needs to be alive again, and yet, you prefer to crawl.

I think that was what happened to those creatures, too, and all the more so, I grew interested in what the one on the cloudy rock had to say. Maybe it could teach us, humans, a secret!

“You used to be beings of light, of fire. Your mere presence showed everyone the passion of life. Now, look at you! All there is left is the tar of your own darkness. I won’t tell you you’re wrong. Instead, I will definitely tell you to choose. Don’t let the darkness and circumstances choose you! 

Any moment of your life is the right moment for you to go up, or to stay down covered in filth and mud. You know what’s down there. You feel it on your wings of fire right now! Why should you go back up? What’s up there, you ask? Maybe, the chance to fall and crush, but also the chance to soar and see things differently even if only for an instant.

You know, the seed feeds on the darkness of the earth, but it does so only because it wishes to spring into light. It doesn’t dwell on the comfort of darkness. What if it were afraid of the unseen? How many crops would be lost? How many flowers would fail to give colour to the Earth?

Don’t let the events of your life feed on your darkness and feed the darkness inside you, darkness that’s inherent to all of us. It’s here,” the Fire Bird said pointing with its wing towards its heart,  “it’s there, inside you, because otherwise, right now, you wouldn’t be grey beings, wingless beings, fireless beings. You’d still burn if that darkness didn’t exist. But that is not important! What is important is for you to choose! Choose if you let the water swallow you, or if you learn to swim.”

Something moved inside those creatures for all of them raised their heads towards the sky, and in doing so, a small ember lit itself inside their chests, and flames started spreading all around their bodies until wings grew back. I know they must have missed the magic of flight as we all do when we fall. That ember inside their chests stood proof that they never forgot their meaning. They were only tired and needed the words of the Fire Bird on the cloudy rock to turn into luminous beings again.

Every now and then, I myself need its words, too. Don’t you?


Glad you joined me in this world of water where fire burns gently. Let’s keep our wings!

© Copyright Irina Serban. All rights reserved


Wednesday, 13 May 2015

Sleeping On A Cloud © by Irina Serban





Time must have fallen somewhere, in a precipice, and lost itself, for I open up my eyes in the morning, I blink, and there comes the night! Where are the hours?

The skies must have turned upside down, for, today, I’ve gathered a whole pile of moon shards from my hair. Have I rested my head on a cloud? And what's that golden dust on my bare feet? Oh, it must be the imploded stars!

The oceans must have turned themselves into cascading waters, for I hear them rumbling whenever I think about them. Can I change their reality? Can I make them flow and fall? I think I can! Here it is: one falling relentlessly from the rim of a nebula!

And what about the trees? Are they still here? Yes, here they are, with their roots firmly grounded into the sky. They are the pillars of my castle, and that bird's nest is my favourite dreaming spot.

This is a rather upside down world, and I'm still learning my way through it. Or is it that I'm flying?

There is only one world where time does not exist, where one can get entangled in the moon rays and step on stars, where oceans can fall cascading on perilous slopes, and where trees grow roots in the skies. Imagination you said? Dreams you said?

It is what we want it to be! Why should we answer all questions? Some are better to be left as such.

Life is the big question! How much of it is there on the cloud where you’re resting your head?

© Copyright Irina Serban. All rights reserved


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