Runway Paradise

Take me away from this empty and grey world. Take me away from all that dims the golden shine of the sun. Take me away from all that chokes the imagination and brings downs the spirit. Take me away and bring me to my paradise in a distant far away place. Travel as far as you can with me from this ordinary world and bring me to Dreamweaver Village, where fantasies come true and dreams are reality, where goodness and joy rule. 1

Oh my god! Look out there! It’s the ancient oak tree that stands tall guarding all that is innocent and pure. Look how its massive branches cast their shadows spreading coolness throughout the village green. Come and run with me on the lush grass to the circle of trees right there near the oak. Dance with the wind as the leaves on the trees dance and whisper in their secret language. Dive with me in the small pound of crystal like water and enter a world you’ve never seen before. Take a fearless deep breath and submerge into the warm embrace of the purging stillness below and meet me at the other side in my own personal heaven. 2

Oh, you’re already here! Oh, what joy, what joy! So let the celebrations begin! You are my guest, my dear friend, in the forest, where all touches the soul and pleases the senses is being born. Follow me to the spot, where your spirit can find rest and you hunger can be sated. Behold the majestic gathering of the muses of the forest here at my private world under the watchful eye of the past gods above. Before you sate your soul to the wonders that lay ahead, feast upon the fruit of the land. Savor the sweetness of life like you never have. You are free to take from the trees and bushes freely, because here generosity is a virtue that has found its place away from our own world. Now come along enrich yourself with the wisdom and beauty.3

Right there to your left you shall find the weeping willow standing tall, but also hidden within its waterfalls of dark green leaves. Behind these curtains slumbers the muse of History, who is almost as ancient as the foundations of the worlds themselves, but remains as a beautiful maiden of no more than twenty summers. Look into her eyes and drink from the wisdom of centuries past. Listen to her whisper well and with care, because she has a tale to tell. A circle of elves fair and tall themselves sit around her mesmerized by her every word. 4

Right to her left laughs the muse of Dreams. Her tree is thin and tall with silver leaves and flowers with the colors of the rainbows. See the radiant charm, with which she shines, a real enchantress. See the threads of dreams that are her hair, which she weaves with such delicate movements of her fingers and intricacy that can be nowhere seen. Sit by her tree along the hundreds of mystical and fantastical creatures of your wildest dreams and let her spells entangle you in the net of your own fantasies and desires.5

But that is not by far all there to see. Follow me once again to meet more of these heavenly apparitions. Come with me to the maiden, for which the words are never enough. Her speech can flow for endless times without finding all the words to describe how wonderful and magical the world is in her eyes and her voice can be so melodious when she almost sings the rhymes that express the ocean of emotions deep inside of her. This true Renaissance lady clad in a sea of green velvet gowns is the muse of Literature and lives inside the great apple tree. All, who seek talent in this art, plead the generous and kind muse for a bright red apple that bestows the gift of poetry or a bright green apple to gain the endless flow of words. 6

If you seek entertainment sit by the strangest and amazing tree in the whole forest. Don’t be troubled, because I’ve been talking about the home of the twin sisters, patronesses of the art of theatre, Comedy and Tragedy. Comedy is the playful and humorous pink-cheeked maiden with pinkish red curly hair and a wreath of grapevine. Her legs have been embraced by the grapevine, that grow high above with ripe fruit, which is sweet and intoxicating like the wine made from them itself. Tragedy is her twin sister with dark almost raven like straight hair with strands of poison ivy in it. She has become one with the vines of the poison ivy and together with her sister they stand as one whole, one tree, and one art. Every time, when the golden light falls upon their faces they call all the wisps and fairies from the land to put an amazing spectacle for all that would like to watch. 7

You seem amazed, well my dear friend I have certainly more to show you and more to tell. Not far away there is a sight to see, right there around this fiery red maple with leaves the color of blazing flames. This is the home of the muse of Dance. You can see this charming dryad always on the move never stopping for a second her hypnotic dance. Her body twists and moves in unseen elegance as if moved by the wind. No one can mistake her with her wild flaming red hair from all the other dryads, who were following her every step devoted to the art of the dance. Go to her and let her joy and vitality sink beneath your skin and forces you to dance free from all.8

You may dance and you may sing as much as you wish until your body pleads for rest and your spirits screams with joy. So come now give honor to this next amazing wonder of my home. This tree right by my side with lilies and orchids in its leaves in all shapes, sizes and shades of the blue is where every melody is being born. The muse of Music is the housekeeper of this musical hive, a haven and birthplace of every song ever to be created. There she is, brilliant and unearthly in her own inhumanly beauty with the torso of a young woman and the body of a deer. Here she steps with her hooves aimlessly across the field lost in her own art, while playing on her flutes; her creamy blue hide and hair melding with the surrounding her flowers of the tree. The wind rustles gently through the flowers to accompany the lovely muse, while her personal orchestra of satires with flutes and lyres master this intricate art. Rest you feet here and listen to this ambrosia for the soul as the countless voices of the forest nymphs echo through the whole forest. 9

If you had rested well from your sensual dance and had heard enough to have gained back your strength, then I urge you to continue our journey through my home. Head forth to the branches on pink flames. I’m sure you have seen a cherry tree with bright pink blossoms. Observe the simplicity of its beauty, but at the same time the delicacy of the detail. If you harbor the desire to bring joy to your eyes then come to this cherry tree, the domain of the muse, who surrounds herself with all, which is beautiful and esthetic. Behold the heavenly apparition that steals your breath with its unseen beauty, which flows above the ground embraced by a mist of pale pink breath! Behold the masterpiece that has left the canvas to start up a new life! Behold the muse of Art! Don’t be shy just go and ask her to be taught. Her full lips will curl in a warm smile and with a touch from her hand you shall see. Colors shall spring vivid and bright to your eyes and all shall lose its form to subjugate to your imagination. Let her guide your hands to the bark of her tree so that they can learn to recreate all those wonderful visions in your mind. 10

From your smile I gather you like it here, my amazing guest. However I’d like you to meet a muse that has a special place in my heart. Come with me to the Muse of muses, the Queen of queens. Her tree is the one adorned with roses of all colors in its crown. Look at the powerful queen, the archetype of all the others being just as beautiful and gifted as her daughters. Come with me to her to purify your soul. Feel the grass on your naked feet and the gentle touch of the wind on your skin. Hear the songs of the birds like you’ve never done before, witness the wonders of nature and inhale the smell of the roses. All but one senses of your old self have been purged, so follow me to the queen and drink from the clear rain water stored in the rose cups of the trees. Hear what the queen of roses has to say and learn all there is about virtues. 11

You may think that our stay here is over I’ve shown you where I live, but this is just the beginning me friend. Do you wish to find out more about me, about my essence? If that is so then what are we waiting for? Let’s run to the darkened patch of forest, where strange plants grow. Here it is, the great stone arch with huge wooden vines grown on it, the gate way to my heart. This is the maze of massive stone columns, pieces of walls and ornaments knit together by the powerful vines of the banyan tree that like the poison ivy spreads and crawls, wherever it wishes. As we walk you’ll see secluded places with solitary couches, chairs and cushions, desolate fountains, lonely trees and sun lit patches of flowers. This here is the maze, where I lose myself in my thoughts, but now I’ve much more to make known to you.12

Do you see the leaves with the crimson colors of autumn straight ahead? They belong to the huge red oak in the center of the meadow in the eye of the sun. This is my tree of wisdom and guidance. It opens its eyes and greets us with a dance of its branches. This is the guardian of my knowledge, my dreams, my thoughts, my mind. Look around you and see the countless shelves of books lined up in an endless spiral. Within the pages of these books lies my life since my birth to my very last thought a few seconds ago. If you wish to meet the real me, then reading tome after tome would help you. 13

Let’s delve deeper into my home and come to the heart of what I call my home in the Dreamweaver Village. Why is this look of surprise on your face? Have you never seen a tree with lotuses hanging from white silk ribbons? Have you never seen walls of colored glass surrounding a circle of trees? Have you not seen elegant velvet robes in all colors hanging from their branches? No, is your answer. Well now you have. Why do you torture yourself with why I’ve shown you all of these fantastical visions, met you with all these gorgeous unearthly creatures and tease you with this entire splendor? Don’t you know? Can’t you feel it? Don’t you recognize your own features in the faces of all these muses? Don’t you realize that everything here is designed from the stories you have told me? This is my heart, this is my soul and you are my muse, my sweet escape at the Dreamweaver Village.14