Indigo and Life – A short, poetic story by Soar

We are sharing a poetic story written by Soar from Germany.  This a a preview as her interview will be posted on March 20, 2014. 

 
Aiiro was his name, and he was a book without content, lost in the labyrinth of history to search for his own memories. He couldn’t remember if he ever had a smell, yet he always knew that there was something missing from his skin, too jaded and blind without his entity. Therefore, he searched all over for covers, but they were all posing in fluffy shapes, never really capturing his sense.

Until one day he heard of an amazing presence, suspended in the universe, bridging two worlds, called rainbow. As it felt flamboyant and divine, he went to search for its advice.

The rainbow heard his wish to be alive, or at least to be no longer blind. “What you search is not outside, but rather at the bottom of your spine. I can only give you light, from the array of my bow: choose one colour and use it as a guide.”

Amid the dances in the sun of such joys of life, his awe was too great for a decision to be made. Yet he saw a gentle hue, something between violet and blue, a beam so unique, that it smelled of soul to him. He picked her as a resort and asked for help.

“I don’t know your woe, she said, but I can share with you the gnosis of the earth, maybe it will keep you warm”. She drew a contrast between voidness and profoundness, writing in intuition and hope all tales, from the oldest epics to the newest apps of poetry.

Aiiro was too bewitched to speak; it felt so good only to read, but most importantly to see himself opening up and growing from within. For he didn’t realize that, through her emotions transcribed, he was given an eye of light to refract his own soul and make a path to the unknown borders and back: the rainbow.

And ever since, she and Aiiro lived in the greatest harmony: she would shape his soul in dreams and he would treasure her within, while his unknown white past would find a purpose in her future coloured life.

This unremitting universal balance perdured so truly that, whenever a soul got lost or felt broken, it would be found between the lines of books unspoken: with the eyes of all dreams open.

(©2013 www.soaring-words.com )

tomaca

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