The Link

She felt his ultra sensitive skin. Warm, soft pattern. Like cosy Merino winter socks. The special connection was obvious. Their eyes worked together to shape the world around them. Better than an artist. Soul much better. Unique in time. Timeless truth. Hearts beating in synchronistic long waves. Human. Animal. Speaking with eyes only. The deepest language level. Light. Dark. A world of glorious opposites dancing together to be whole. Performance sky high. 

A dedicated story felt instantly attracted to their state of being. Like a wild bear's hunger for nature's honey. Never giving up, fighting for the gold. Knowing where the treasure is, giving in to the wanting. The shining honey accepted its humble fate. It would stick to the added value. Collecting silver leaves, fallen of old trees, letting go the old. The new was coming. Behind the blue mountain of worthy dreams. The leaves would soon be transformed into white paper. Patient as paper can be. 

An old man was reading a book. Not just a book. The book of happenings of the future. Already captured in one area by the stream of energetic exchange between trees who know more than people ever can grasp with their small to medium sized human capacity. The book and its cover were enjoying the divine attention. Like a child on Christmas day, being observed by its loving parents and proud grandparents and feeling the happy eyes all over its young soul. Hungry for more hugs and kisses.

The multiple chapters clapped their tiny hands. Not so loud since paper has not such an impact in the sounds of the world. A successful team looking in the same direction. No ego, only heart of the matter. They all were part of a chain. They treasured the chain thought every single day. The old man almost laughed. What an activity. His eyes were shining. The light was on. Might be his heart. Smart. Outside the brown horse felt the lucky lady's hand on his cheeks. Diamonds are forever. He was a diamond. A jewel of life. 

The lady was the only daughter of the old man. He could not see her. But he felt her presence. She lived in another universe. Alive. Completely alive. The horse had access to both worlds. Each time the old man came to the horse, his eyes got nurtured. He knew that the horse and his only daughter had a special bound. It always had been. Since childhood. She loved to draw paintings of brown horses only. Not a chance to change her mind about what she created in her world. Stubborn. Strong. Selective.

Suddenly the old man dropped the book on the wooden floor. The door opened slowly. As only doors can. The eyes of the old man followed the shape getting bigger. The brown horse entered the kitchen. On his back there was a present. A drawing. The old man took it in his hands. Emotionally. Shaking. The artist was an adult. Difference noted. Noted well. Suddenly the drawing moved. The picture transformed. Gentle. Step by step. The horse changed into the daughter. On paper and then in real. The moment was well chosen.

They hugged each other deeply. Madly in love with this key moment in their lives. All eyes on them. Long hugs are the best. Tears of joy swimming like dolphins to the surface to play the game of happy encounters. Beautiful memories of long forgotten times linked itself to the scene. Rushing over their souls and hearts. Healing frequencies. Coming. Leaving. Staying. Covering their love. Parents and grandparents were told to go back to the scene of the child. Scene rewritten. With elegance and undeniable truth. You should see the look on their faces … and the child continued to display more innocence and delight. That is right. 

By Liesbeth Leysen 

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