Literary Yard

Search for meaning

By: Paweł Markiewicz

I have dreamed during the whole night. A dreamy Erlking has come to me with his wizardry of muses. I opened my dear soul for his fulfillment as well as for the dreamery full of moonlit night. A shooting star became my best dearest friend such a weird of some druids… In this starlit night I feel a paradise in me. The Erlking, a ruler of thousand elves from a holt, told my the most marvelous story about magic not of this time. Listen to me!  Do not forget it never, but you are not a forget-me-not!

The meekest story

            A wise man in former times told kindly, that there is the marvelous world behind a primeval Birch Grove, the so called woodland of Zeus, at each midnight. The gorgeous magical world  wakes and dies after seven hours of fulfillment of fire and warmth. There the magic is released, with that it pushes in the beautiful world with magic power. There is a silver queen of fire and volcanoes called the Loving of Silver Light. The charm repeats in each night. The Loving of Silver Light was once a woman from Sparta who lived in the ancient world in this city. She was popular with the Goddess of the most beautiful hunting, so that she liked wonderful forests. Each tree was  the most propitious trace of the nature which she liked with all of her heart. She spared life and her son was unfortunately sick and the Councilor Sparta’s decided to fall him in a mountain slope. It happened his will. The mother was for the sake of the love a lot of  worried and inner bitter, so that she fell into circular volcano to suicide. The goddess of hunting has her  meanwhile rescued.  She told her anyhow: Wait for moonlit ghosts, that will  You  carry the light of liberty. They come from Diana. All ghosts come only when a young dreamer throws down into the volcano a piece of paper with the meekest poem of magnificent tears. The simple woman from Sparta has become the Queen of the volcano and the fire. She had to sleep peacefully all days. She awakes withal every midnight, every time that the awoken and even so propitious moon  wakes her with it silver sparkle. For the sake of the warmth of the silver sparkle awakes her volcano-like ghost at each midnight withal longing and love for forgotten Sparta-worlds, for marvelous woodland and the fossilized goddesses  who have for ever  sunken. Her soul could not be freed, because she has become Apollonianly beautiful she-ruler. Her enchanted place was this volcano. There, at midnigh, some ghost of fire, water, air and earth had to find their silence and pleasure inside in the crater, before they flocked to the meekly propitious world, carrying the love, wonderful dreams, fulfillment and good feelings. Sometimes these powers argue with themselves because of the word-like malice, so that the volcano seems to become exploded.  The Loving of Silver Light liked the moon and its light. She has waited for the young dreamer and freeing through  Diana’ s ghosts. It was difficult to find this dreamer, because nearby nobody saw into the volcano in the dark, but moonlit night and threw no poem inside. In a gorgeous night a human from Poland Pavel came here and followed beautiful ways of she-wolves-songs and the ways, illuminated by lunar fulfillment. It led him in to crater of the dreamiest volcano. Er thrown a piece of paper, with the poem, entitled: “The rambler and the time-like roads of the Sparta”, because of the weird of the volcano, so that the Queen with the lunar ghosts have vanished with tender Diana’s ghosts. In the paradise she has become free and freed.
Since this time the volcano stops burning. It ferments not any more. Only the moon aches to illuminate kindly for hikers their ways.

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