They told her not to venture into dark routes; roads with nameless destinations, paths where moonbeam shivered in thin air, tracks which had lost track of lost travelers. Their fingers pointed to the shady parts where blackness denied to reveal if at all it was concealing something unfathomable. They tried to prison her spirit, sometimes with legends, sometimes with myths and other times with stories they hoped to weak her will with. They warned on how dangerous a sense of adventure could be!
Little did they know her eyes were fixed on the forbidden route; on a small patch of land which was white and glistening against all the black around, where moonbeam danced with the rustling of leaves, where a part of her will was already resting, calling her to name that virgin land with her definition of destiny.
She rendered herself deaf and blind for them, she closed her mind for those blabbers and she marched! All her thoughts were hell bent on that place where she wanted to be. She stumbled and fell. She bruised and cut herself. She bled, licked her wounds and marched; her eyes fixed on that patch of land! For see had seen something that others were too blind to see, the shimmer on the ground, the shattered pieces of glasses and mirrors which reflected starlight or let it straight through them.
And when she reached, she knew how it felt walking on the stars. She knew how loyal pain is. She realized how sweet it felt, standing there on naked feet, bleeding with satisfaction and walking on glass. The Cinderella story was finally true!
Originally posted on Blogger on Feb 20, 2016