Once upon a time …, there was nothing, …
Nothing but existence, …
Not really of nothing but existence, …
There were those who were whispering the rune of their “being” in life. Upon the times, all of us were living alike, similar to one another.
Our daily-living land was only as vast as all of our pasts and there was no essence of the moment and presence.
The land was as wide as all my reality and that of all my ancestors, and within that infinite, the unknown was emerging.
At times I was hasting for hazy future and arriving at closed doors, but there, were not the intended.
There are moments in life that you, in an instant, notice a different clime which you have never experienced before, and that
The land of White Horses
The noble, wild, beautiful, white horse was on the move, quick and smooth as always, without a talented rider.
While on the other side, the rider was busy with troubles, sorrow, pleasures and moments that in fierce, parting and darkness were passing and passing.
The white horse, with full strength, was passing through forests, meadows, swamps, pastures, …
and into the unknown as wild waters, flowing river, calm sea, was on the move, yet still with no rider or master.
Maybe this solitary of the white horse and loneliness of the rider, had vanished life.
But something terrific happened, extraordinary …
In an “instant”, the rider found the horse and jumped over her. For only a couple of moments, the rider struggled staying balanced over the horse when very quickly he remembered mastering the white horse;
because he had learnt the riding, it was only a while that he had forgotten.
Like all true tales, the horse and the rider joined together and none of them was lonely any more in the ancient, beautiful land.
In the name of “life” they continued living; perhaps they have found the “seed” of the apple and they only planted it again and continued composing.