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I've met a magician and he turned me into a bird, so I could fly.
As I was roaming the skies, I've met a phoenix and he burned my wings, turned my feathers to dust. "You are not meant to be here," the phoenix sung as I plummeted towards the ground.
I fell into a gentle moss growing in a quiet forest. With no wings to fly I became so sad by looking at the sky, I couldn't bear to watch it anymore. So, I dug a hole and hid underground.
The underground was chilly and comforting and so I became a mole and kept on digging.
I dug and dug and one day, I suddenly felt the need to see the skies again, so I dug up and up and I felt the breeze again, felt the warmth of the summer sun.
But I could see no more, blinded by the darkness of the underworld.
I've wished to run from the skies and now I could never see them again.
I turned back and dug down and down, leaving the skies behind. I've been digging deeper and deeper till I digged my way into the Centre of the Earth and I melted into magma.
I was pushed down and round and then up, up, up, waiting, quietly bubbling. I was so hot; I was so lonely. I wanted to see the skies again. Then the tremors came, and I came erupting out of a volcano as lava.
I was trapped on a side of the volcano, becoming a lavas stone, not being able to move on. I liked lying there at first. I could sense the beauty of my surroundings. It was calm and soothing. I wish I could become a stone again in the next life.
But as time went, I wished someone would pick me up and carry me to new places. I felt a quiet sadness at something that could not happen in this life.
As I sat at the side of a volcano there was a loud cracking and then the volcano erupted again.
I was thrown into the air and then lava engulfed me and turned me into volcanic ash.
I could feel myself changing. I was different. I flew as a little particle through the air, finally travelling far and far, until I fell down a became a part of a dying flower.
The flower was dandelion, withering way too quickly to ever let the wind blow it’s seeds away.
I became one with the flower, slowly healing its diseased limbs. I, so sad and lonely and the flower so diseased, we healed each other and became one.
I waited for the wind to come and blow me further away, make me dance in the air, but the winds only blew around me, quietly whispering „I cannot blow you away. “
Then a young boy came, and he took me.
„All the other dandelions are already blown away by the wind, have you been left behind? “
He seemed to understand how much I wanted to dance free, but even more, my will to find a purpose other than this never-ending travelling.
There is a secret in this world. Old people know of it and pass it on, only for it to become a fairy tale. But fairy tales are exactly what children believe the most.
The young boy looked at the flower, thinking back to his grandma saying that blowing a dandelion into the wind, would make his wish come true.
He made a wish and blew me away, releasing me into the wind, that finally came to me, playing with me as we went.
Now, I had a quest. I had something I needed to do no matter what.
And there was a lot to get done. But it was alright, I had a feeling we would be alright. There were exactly 9 pieces of me.
The part of me that still yearned to look at the sky stayed with the young boy, feeling the boy loved skies as much as we did.
The 8 parts of me then travelled around until we found another boy, lost in himself, in the darkness of the world yet fighting for himself. Fighting to at least see the stars in the pitch dark. The part of me that yearned to become the stone again giggled happily at this boy and stayed with him, unconsciously drawing the boy to my other part, that stayed with the one who loved skies.
The third part of me stopped for the saddest sun we’ve ever seen. The part of me that loved dancing and remembered the warmth of the sun stayed with the boy, who was sad with rejection. The me began quietly drawing the boy to where the One Who Loved the Skies and the One Who Wanted to Become a Stone were.
There were 6 parts of me dancing through the world, but somehow, we found ourselves back with the little group.
That was where another part of me parted from me.
For the little man with funny name and reassuring smile, who loved the world and treated people with kindness where others only snickered.
The me that never gave up stuck to this person, whispering to him in that moment, where he hesitated. „Yes, it's not too late to change. But more…we will need more. “
And we flew away, once again. Following a person from the company, as he walked the streets around a university. As this person walked the streets a bus door opened.
A tall guy walked out and the me that still remembered how it felt having our wings burned drifted to this person, gasping at his beauty, at his kindness and hidden potential for something amazing. The one who remembered, how it felt when we couldn’t fly again joined this person, making him accidentally trip and bump into the person from the company.
4 left.
Then we found the other boy. The one who reminded me of the time I hid my true selve from the world. The me that wanted it all so much, but was acred to show it all, the me that saw something in this boy. And as this boy stood in front of his table, looking at all the cards, the me flew to him, giving him confidence to choose the one he wanted, even if not as shiny as the others.
And we were drawn back, back again where so many parts of us met. And as I watched I saw the me, that Wanted to Become a Stone glitter. Another boy came with a friend. The friend went to audition but the other boy stayed. Sitting quietly in that big room.
The me, that wanted to carry us away, when I was a stone. The one that wanted to discover beautiful places together. It flew to this boy, as he was hesitating, after the man asked the question. As he thought of leaving. The me whispered, „It’s alright, you can stay, “ and the boy said alright, I will try.
And then there were only two of me. And we again danced through the winds. We felt the circle was slowly closing. I was bit scared. Scared if we can find the rest. Scared what will happen, after all is done.
But I had a feeling I would figure it out again. And I learned to believe in my feelings, especially those that said It’s going to be alright.
And we flew through a school, into a teacher’s room as she was talking to a beautiful boy, with pretty cheeks and beautiful smile.
„You should try auditioning Jimin, “she said. And the boy felt so unsure, but he knew trying won’t hurt. The other me hesitated, it wasn’t sure, if it should join this boy.
So, we followed him, we saw him dance and sing. And get accepted, and the me still hesitated, still trying to see a piece of itself in him.
And the boy danced and danced and sang and he stopped eating and his cheeks disappeared.
And the me that still remembered the phoenix as it said „You’re not meant to be here“, the thoughts coming and saying I’m not enough, not good enough not pretty enough to fly again.
The me flew, faster than the wind that carried us around and it joined the little boy, quietly warming his cold hands against the cold. Drawing the others toward him.
Drawing them all together.
And I felt it. When I saw the first one again, the boy who now had a mohawk, as if even his hair tried to reach for his beloved sky.
And it all fitted together. I felt it as I happily danced around. The boy’s wish was now set and ready to be fulfilled. All that was left, was for them to go on.
And I had a feeling, they will be all right.
It was a long time ago, that I lost all form. Now just a bundle of thoughts, ideas, an archive of memories.
And I travelled far, so very far getting caught by many people, staying for a while, giving them a bit of their story and leaving again.
I could never tell mine. It felt as if the story was too faded for me to even remember. And as I drifted, I entered a classroom filled with summer sunrays and long curtains and young kids.
And I saw her. I knew I would stay for a bit, tell her their story and leave again. It’s how things went, and I didn’t mind.
I didn’t.
Did I?
It was the year of 2015.
And as I drifted to this girl who didn’t seem at all different from others, I felt something warm surrounding her. There were more of us, I could tell. More thoughts, more ideas, so many, drifting around her mind as she looked at the teacher, hardly hiding her boredom.
There was also a pain, pain of loneliness hidden for so long, loneliness around others.
She felt it, when I touched her beautiful brown hair that flew around a bit as the winds caressed her face.
And she knew. She knew of this world’s secrets, of old magic. Of dandelion seeds that carry the wishes of others. And she smiled and she looked at me and I saw kindness in her eyes. Kindness that said, “You’ve done great. I wish for you to be happy. That would really make my day.”
So, I told her. I told her of flying. Of how I didn’t remember, what I was at the very beginning of it all. Of my fear of the world. How I lost my sight.
But when I tried to tell their story, she couldn’t hear.
That happed too. Because sometimes, I was not the one meant to tell them.
It meant this girl still had prejudice that wouldn’t let her hear my words.
I didn’t mind. Her heart as so many others was so similar to those who carried my other parts. I wouldn’t worry.
They would find her, when she needed them the most. That is how this world is.
So, I only told her my story and she took a paper she was supposed to work on in the lesson, turned it around and wrote it all down.
And I said, „don’t throw it away.“ And she did as I said. Not knowing there were still 5 more years before she could understand.
5 years before she would feel like she could love again.
I was a bit sad, seeing as shew would go through so many years without them.
But I could feel all these warm thoughts and ideas still surrounding her mind, gently tapping her shoulders. I had a feeling; she too would be alright.
„We will meet again,“ I said as I was leaving. And she watched me go, slightly chuckling at the story she just wrote down on that little piece of paper.
And I travelled around, meeting others, so few at the beginning, so numerous later. Those who also saw pieces of themselves in those boys.
And 5 years later, I came back to the girl.
She was staring at my story, little symbol of closing door drawn on her forearm.
“Hello again” she whispered as she gently stroked the paper.
And I had a feeling I wanted to stay with her for a bit.
Or a bit longer.
After all, there was so much warmth.