The Lights In The Sky, Part 3

The Lights In The Sky, 3

A Children’s Epic by G. Z. Kieft

Where It Started (pt. 1)

How it Continued (pt.2)

Long waits
And longer walks,
The days were too short ,
The nights never stopped.

Little miss Faye
And Oliver watched,
As their journey together,
Shook their hearts.

It trembled their knees,
It tore at their laugh,
Assembled by pleas,
From the towns in their path.

Still, they remained calm,
With one thought in their noggins,
Save all that you can save,
Their needs were the same as others’.

One, long, brazen night,
As snowflakes like daggers,
Pierced through the sky,
Fay asked Oliver the secret to life.

Oliver sighed, his raspy voice
scraping through his chest,
He cupped her ears from noise,
And closed her eyes to rest.

He whispered as she wisped away,
Into the land of dreams,
“The secret isn’t worth knowing,
If you follow your heart and its beats.”

The next morning,
Another journey would start,
And Faye listened closely,
To the beat of her heart.

Though she did not speak its language,
The heart said one thing she understood,
A life filled with anguish,
Is a life lived for moot.

But she was delicate in her choice,
Not brash as she had once been,
She looked at the old man,
And told him her assumption.

“My parents need finding,
That I know,
But meanwhile our kingdom,
Is oh so alone.”

Oliver looked at her,
And raised one brow.
“What do you mean?”
He asked with a scowl.

“Don’t be mad,
this isn’t easy,”
“Don’t make the wrong choice,”
Said Oliver discretely.

“I have grown much since we began,
Oliver, and so have you,
I ask but one thing,
Will you in my stead rule?”

“But what of you?” Oliver asked,
“Won’t you come with me?”
But Faye shook and kindly laughed,
“My parents must be freed.”

Oliver took much convincing,
But finally he agreed,
The girl had a point,
Though he would cry as he’d leave.

Faye was now alone,
And secretly she was glad,
She had grown much with Oliver,
And in fact she had him surpassed.

Now she had nothing holding her back,
And soon the Witch would regret,
This tale had a happy ending,
And that happiness would quickly reset.

The Perfectionist

The biggest bane to the existence of perfection is time. Because of time, there can be no such thing as perfect. To be perfect everything must be exactly as it is, without change, and yet through the passing of time those brief seconds – those split moments are moved along like unnoticeable bubbles in the current of life.

Still, we are somewhat aware of perfect moments. We notice that particular times during sunset the light catches the clouds in such a way that it looks as if God is spinning wheels of cotton candy and the landscape wears shadows like long capes and gowns dragging over the floor.

I experienced a moment like that. But I didn’t experience it in the sunset, no, I experienced it in a pair of eyes. I felt the rush become me – a sensation to end all; to finish me. I had seen them many times before, and I would see them many times after, but I would never catch a moment like this.

And yet, ‘catch’ is so far from being the right word. I didn’t catch that moment. I didn’t do so much as stumble under it as it trampled me. I barely remember it, to be honest, I just remember the feeling. That feeling of perfection – perfection… perfection has touched me! I have seen what no one wants to see, and that is perfection. And it’s rough. To be witness to perfection, and then to be dragged along by time and forced to experience so many imperfect moments. It feels like hearing Beethoven and then being tortured with loops of Yellow Submarine.

That perfect moment will forever drive me in life. I will never settle again. I have tasted just a hint of it but I’m a devoted addict to perfection. The problem is knowing that my attempts at perfection are all so moot because, just like little bubbles in a strong current, catching perfection is impossible.