Wednesday, 23 July 2014

I Found My Soul © by Irina Serban

Painting: Sacred Forest - oil on canvas by Vladislav Pantic 

          I found my soul hiding deep in the heart of a pine forest. He smelled like moss and humid clay. He had silver hair made of rivers waving down his shoulders and his fingers played an eerie song on strings made of moon rays. He was lost, unable to remember me. He was restless searching and searching. He thought he was alone. 

I was like him, too: lost and restless and alone. Instead, I smelled like sand and algae. I had blue hair made of oceans waving down to my waist and my heart sang an eerie song on strings made of longing.

I don't know what wicked god had us stranded: one on the shores, the other one in the middle of the forests, but I know of one magical god, who shared visions of him in one of my dreams. That's how I found out what the meaning of my search was. That's how I knew where he was. 

         Now, I'm dragging my sand being heavy with the water of the oceans, salty like tears, trying to find that forest where he dwells in solitude. If only he turned his gaze towards the sky for me to be able to see his light beaconing among the stars. I'll find him, and cheek by cheek, I'll tell him he has never been alone! 

© Copyright 2014 Irina Serban. All rights reserved

Wednesday, 9 July 2014

Paint The Sky! I'll Touch The Wind! © by Irina Serban

When eagles cry distressed, you paint the sky in hues of passion, and let it pour in our hearts consuming desire.

When fires burn, you paint the sky in hues of sorrow, and let it rain to cool our tormented thoughts.

When we lie dormant, you link the two distant worlds with threads of light, and make them burst into our souls, scattering them in fragments of iridescent questioning.

What is around us that talks in whispers and lures us to no-places where we don't need our senses to meet and know each other?

What is it that ties us and draws one filament after another until we're caught in spider webs of resignation?

What kind of painter are you who touches the unseen canvases and sows winds where nothingness once birthed only peace and quiet?

How can we walk through the tempests you create?

Why don't you let us live nowhere where we need nothing to be who we are?

Do you love battles? 

Do you love seeing us struggle, lost like birds carried by gusts? 

Do you love the torment of separation?

I'll touch the wind to feel you and hear you give the answers. How would you paint the sky then? I'm sure like no other for that's when your heart will pour down love to dry all our tears!

You, paint the sky! I’ll touch the wind, and we’ll meet in the crown of the trees, which guard the dreaming forests!

(A.N. The story was inspired by John Two-Hawks' song, Paint the Sky. You can find his wonderful songs on his website or on Itunes or check his youtube channel Thank you for everything!)

© Copyright 2014 Irina Serban. All rights reserved

Thursday, 26 June 2014

Thoughts On Paper by Irina Serban - #quotes #sneak #peeks

Wednesday, 25 June 2014

Lightning In The Lime Tree © by Irina Serban

   There's a lime tree in front of my house. I don’t know if twenty years are much in the life of a tree, but this one surely wears them proudly. The shade it casts is so much searched for by all kinds of travellers be them four legged or two legged. Still, there’s nothing more captivating than the perfume spewing from its freshly blossomed flowers. Or perhaps there is!

      Right at the time when it blossoms, at a certain moment during the night, I can notice  shrieks of light passing over through its limbs. “It’s the cars! Just an optical illusion!” people would say. But I know it’s not true!

When everything falls asleep, even the tree itself, its crown starts rustling and swirling gently, its flowers sparkle like little stars, and the shrieks of light intensify. If you look closely, soon, you’ll discover the fairies guarding the lime tree fidgeting and giggling. I never could comprehend if the blossoms of the lime tree are their dresses, or if their dresses are in fact the tree’s inflorescence. These fairies are always there, hiding in its branches, even during the daytime, and they hear all the complaints of the passersby.

One night, they got up a storm within the poor lime tree. Their wands cast real lightnings, and I feared they might put on fire the tree. Alas, when they saw me watching them, I feared they might pour their fury on me. A rapid exchange of words followed up, of course, in their language, which I didn’t understand, and they arrived on my windowsill, leaving one of them behind to guard the tree. I assumed that must have been their Queen, seriousness and composure being read on her face lined by the most wonderful green hair, the vividness of the leaves, that kind of green.

Raising one brow, the fairies on my windowsill looked at me, pointed their wands at me, and one lightning touched my heart. It didn’t hurt, only something happened because I suddenly could understand their words. One of them said:

“I’m the fairy of the lime tree’s roots! Tell people this: Don’t complain you’re staying in one place! Think of the ones who don’t have a place of their own, or who can’t walk the distances you walk every day! And they are stronger and happier than you!"

And so, another fairy took a step forward and said:

“I’m the fairy of the lime tree’s trunk! Tell people this: Don’t complain when people in your life upset you, or do something that hurts you! Don’t you ever wish to never see them again! Think of all those who are lonely, or who can’t see the face of the ones they love! And they are stronger and happier than you!

“I’m the fairy of the leaves and blossoms!” said another, and she seemed the most beautiful of all. The perfume of her hair was inebriating. “Tell people this: Don’t complain about the hustle and noise of your life, and never wish for peace and quietness. Think of all those who long for someone to slam their door open, to interrupt their work, to make them change their plans unexpectedly. Think of all those who can never hear the sound of laughter, of crying, the sound of their loved ones’ voices! And they are stronger and happier than you!

They moved their wands and parted, leaving behind fairy dust that hovered right in front of me as if waiting for one last command to dissipate. When they reached the lime tree, their Queen said:

“And tell them this: Never pray for this or that, for you might get peace and quietude, solitude, time to travel everywhere, so on and hence forth, however, the price never comes cheap! Instead, when you rest in the shade of our tree, ask for strength and guidance to be able to learn the lessons and face everything the storms of life might bring! Be grateful for what you have, for where you are, for whom you have in your life!”

She moved the tip of the wand slightly, and all that fairy dust entered my eyes. It stung and made me wipe them presently. When I opened them again, it was morning, I was in my bed, facing the wide-open window. I couldn’t see the lightning in the lime tree anymore. The rustle of its leaves and its perfume might have got me into dreaming such a strange dream. Or was it?

© Copyright 2014 Irina Serban. All rights reserved

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