the blink times

Long time ago, when the manifestations of our finite imaginations were stark objects of reality, there lived in a beautiful garden an angel. From heaven she came, radiant and clothed in innocence. At dawn she opened her eyes, and the dew sprung from the earth. The ground she walked turned into a bed of flowers. As she flew in the air, an array of butterflies would awake to greet her. She blessed the trees, and they bore fruit that shone with the light of the stars. She dwelt in the garden all her days, and it was filled with boundless joy and bliss – akin to her beauty.

Along the Great River, there lived a young boy. His father was a shepherd, and each morning he would bring the flock out to graze the fields of the land. His mother spent her days cooking and knitting warm clothing for the family. The boy was left alone for most of the time, and he enjoyed fishing by the banks of the river. As time passed he wondered what lay beyond it, for the world he knew was small and he yearned to explore the boundaries of the vast Earth, collecting rare treasures and undertaking great adventures.

The boy grew to be a man, and everyday his heart was bound to the lands beyond the Great River. On the coming of age, he bid his parents farewell and built a boat to take him across the waters. His mother, wrought with grief at his departure, left these words for him,

“My son, it pains my soul to see you go, to embark on this journey into the Netherlands, but it is said, that at the edge of the horizon lies a garden shrouded in beauty and enchantment, many have searched for it but none have returned. Do not go there, for I fear that doom will descend upon you.”

But he had resolved to set sail and he replied, “Do not grieve, for legend or truth that land may be, it is by my own destiny to take this arduous journey. Farewell, beloved mother.”

That was the last she saw of her son that very day.

For days the man sailed the vast waters of the Great River. He slept little, for even at night he would stay up to gaze at the stars, praying that he would one day find new land. The water nymphs sang to him, and their music brought peace and comfort to his weary body. He would drift into deep slumber and dream of his home, his parents, and the life he left behind.

Months passed, and one morning his boat entered into a thick veil of mist. It covered all that lay before him, so he knew not of where he was going. The boat moved slowly and it finally came to a halt. The air was still, and the fog began to clear, revealing a land filled with rose bushes along its shore. In front of the boat stood a pathway aligned with oak trees raised towards the skies. The man stepped out and walked towards the gate of trees. He had finally reached the garden isle.

The sun began to set. The path led to a field surrounded by a hedge embellished with flowers of every kind. At the center stood a woman, and she smiled at him. Her hair was bright gold, shining with the light of the sun. Her blue eyes carried the memory of the ocean during the forging of the world. Fair as the twilight she was, and on her back she bore a pair of wings, whiter than the clouds that hovered the skies above.

He called to her, and she caught his gaze. She had lived a solitary existence in this haven for countless lifetimes, feeling neither pain or sorrow and free from the bondage of death. Though he was mortal, her heart went out to him, for the curse of love had bound their souls the moment their eyes met. Long were their days and sweet was the union of their love, but she was immortal, while the chains of Death tied his life. When his days ended, she pleaded with Death not to take him away, for she had loved him deeply and could not bear to let him go.

“I implore you! Do not bring him to the realm of the dead, where darkness covers his eyes and his soul would never awaken,” she begged.

But Death replied, “Isn’t it appointed to man their doom, that they should live and depart from this world, to let their physical bodies return to dust and their souls to be laid to rest? He has given you his love, a love that is eternal in memory.”

And Death took the man’s soul and left.

She stood by his lifeless body and tears rolled down her eyes. Her hands caressed his cold, pale face. A cold wind blew across the garden isle, causing the feathers of the angel’s wings to turn to ice. Her wings cracked and shattered into tiny white fragments.

The wind grew colder. The trees, shrubs and flowers that once adorned the beautiful garden withered and died. Seraphim came and gathered the fragments into the sky, but the sky could not hold them. They fell to the earth every year, glistering white, and the people of later ages called them ‘snow’.