It was a medieval farm in the countryside.
If you were curious enough,
You’d find yourself walking towards an opening between the trees,
Almost like a tunnel leading into the woods.
No one would ever be there, was it bewitched or hidden?
I sure got lost in it.
Lost in the wonders of tales in a Bohemian paradise.
The greens and browns of the woods,
And natural stones were surrounding an imaginary path,
With sand so soft and brisk that I had to take it into my palms,
And let it slip through my fingers,
Like a stream of several tiny waterfalls,
Savoring the scent of pine cones,
The main weapons we used for childhood battles.
I stood still between tall thin pine trees to listen to utter silence,
with the wind being so subtle that only the lightest leaves answered to it with their distant fizz,
and only the thinnest trees squeaked as they wobbled to its rhythm,
sometimes accompanied by the notes of woodpecker drumming close by.
Nature has the most timeless sense of music.
Then, unexpected figures started to peak,
With each step, carrying tales from Bohemian history,
Fantasy, fairytales, dreams…
Each engraved animal and human became heroes,
Or more like a depiction of a life lesson,
Depiction of trust, friendship, bravery, faith…
My favorite sculpture was at the end,
On top of the hill,
The end of an imaginary path.
A lion with yellow gemstones as eyes.
It was my final destination.
I told the lion everything!
I told him my worries, experiences, feelings, dreams…
I laid on his back and opened up about my secrets,
Watching the leaves catch the sun’s rays,
allowing the soft incantations of wind to pass through,
Cooling the scenery below.
Sometimes I would close my eyes for a minute,
To picture my worries going away and dreams coming true,
with each incantation.
As I would leave for home, I’d look into his eyes and wonder,
does he see fire, sun, or honey?
When I visit back home, I stop by there.
Each time I live through the stories,
With new memories from my own life.
Some I could not understand as a child,
But I still believe that our leaders should stick to pine cones
when they want to play the alpha games.
The energy of the place was equally overwhelming.
It makes me realize how precious each moment is,
And how mystical life can be.
I can always find myself there.
I still talk to the lion, but only in my mind when away.
For some, his back could almost represent a couch,
To rest in the office of a professional psychologist,
Without interruption,
Because it is outside,
Surrounded by art that blends the human spirit with nature.
No one judges anyone else.
Nothing is timed.
I’d always ask how would I know my mission in life,
and how would I succeed?
The lion becomes an expert at making you believe in your energy,
Restoring your childlike mind and imagination.
Showing you how much of a difference can a split second make,
When a child makes a new friend,
And the dreams shared happen to come true,
Perhaps in another moment,
Another lifetime,
Or even dimension,
Maybe time really is an illusion,
and any instant of our consciousness exits
to reimagine our horizon.
And store our deeper, more timeless meaning in the subconscious,
As long as we don’t blame our free spirit on the dust we came from.
There were times I feared that my soul will be stuck here when I die,
but nothing matters when you are connected to nature.
At that moment blame doesn’t exist,
you just are, you exist, in any form of energy at any point in time within the universe.
While the sun keeps moving through time as the center of our solar system,
we can choose to leave or stay.
Perhaps that is why some of us want our dust to be spread,
somewhere at a special place, once we leave this world.
Out of all the wonders within the Bohemian Paradise,
this is my special place.
welcome to my babbles of doodles, occupying my noodle 