All my life I have been told what not to do, and I believe that when we all look back we can say the same for ourselves. A room is just as cluttered as we would want it to be but only as tidy as the person who points it out to be. If we were to live ourselves would we have lived any different?! Does that really express us? I mean the earliest I can remember of who I am would be 5 years old... so does that mean I continue to live being that 5 year old?
Walls come contracting onto a lowly figure lying in the middle of a room. Not too big, just a little room. Something that she built for herself (now some would say she did that in her mind) and she's happy about it, its her's and she loves it. In this room she feels safest.
Grown to believe in angels she knows she's protected, drawn from the very innards of her convictions of the stories of old. Why the hell would they tell stories if they knew they were not true??? Why do children grow hoping of a happy ending?
The wind blows loudly causing the trees to crane their necks to hear what the little pods were saying. The moon had a hid a long time back maybe to shut itself from the winds that were churning the waves... but to little Lucy the moon hid today... no one was there to talk to her, protect her... she is alone.
A few days back or more she walked a road that would have been the usual road... to pick up berries, fetch milk and pick a few roses to dorn her sashed face. pretty as can be Little Lucy and her pretty blue eyes with her red sash hopped, skipped and faced the world... the road moist, warm, laden with mushrooms, flowers and birds... promises of opportunity beyond imagination... dreams were built in the world that she would go to. Lets go back...
Little Lucy sat on a garden chair licking a lolly her father had bought her... "dear, this is my gift for you, once i get to the other side the gifts are unbound... they'd flow beyond the horizons... but for now a lolly pop from the dentist is all I have for you"... Little Lucy desired nuthing from her actor father... who had punched his way through the hearts of all the townfolk... but he always spoke of dreams beyond the horizon where the people loved to see the talent and appreciated the arts... Lucy and her blue eyes will make it BIG there... for now its the lolly flavoured pink.
Little Lucy 5 years and running, would have to make her walk everyday to fetch milk and pick some berries. Not today
She sat in the garden and along came a stranger... with a smile to kill for and the heart that throbbed outside of his body, BIG, Beautiful... his hair long, wavy and shiny. He moved with long strides, turned suddenly and poked his long nose to Lucy and smiled a million dollars. - "And who do we have heere... beauty thine eyes, soft as an angel thy face... i promise you love, life, success and everything to go with it... blow." Lucy lets of a little whiff where he had stretched out his hand just below his chin... "Take mine all little one, thy voice is meant to sing. Go east towards the sun, and earn thyself some bling." he takes out a diamond and puts it to her palm. Twas the most beautiful thing she had set her eyes on.
"What do i do for more like this?"
"Love my pretty lady, love thyself... for pure is thy heart and love is thy world... walk on till you reach the sea. stop by at the tavern of the swinging goat and ask for the future of a toadstool... the tavern master will give you a room to stay where u will till a passerby borne to the otherside will call on you. take this bling and show em to the passerby and he will take u with him."
"Where do i go?"
"Pretty one, with eyes of the bluest skies, you go to where the glass shines a thousand splendours, teeth are covered with more like this that you hold at thy right. the applause for thy talent will ring for a thousand yeeres... that your sisters' children and their children will sing them children a lullaby in thy name."
And he smiled and she knew at once it was true. How do I thank you stranger she asked with her eyes bluest for she knew at once he spoke of the lands beyond that her father was building for her.
"Give me thy licky-lick stick and take from me my act and bling"
And thus with her father's gift for her, the stranger without a name walks, dancing to an unheard tune... fleet footed fiddler feet... fiesty figure folding into the far... and gone.
Her father will be happy if she made it on her own... no one in the town dared it before. Her father did though now works with a travelling show... she could make it big and rub shoulders with Kurt Cobain and Maynard. She packs quick and light and makes her way through the forest. Turns around once... and gone... down the path where she'd go to pick them berries.
A few years on and she can feel the walls them closing... but thats a world that she'd been a building. Where is the love? where is the bling... she seems to be losing em. She lifts her eyes and picks her liner... smudge the eyes, hide the depths of the blue... with black... BLACK.
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