The dream

Les âmes d'enfants

“Les âmes d’enfants” is by Chantal Peguiron, which proved to be an inspiration for the beginning of this poem

The two children’s hair were wreathed with flowers

Their faces covered with the thinnest of veils that hid their features

And they held their hands shyly

As if they were unaware of one another’s presence, or too wary of it

And they seemed entirely focused on each little step that brought them closer to their destination

Atop the dry, brambled hill in the little stone church

They were followed by all the inhabitants of the two villages as was the custom when a betrothal took place

Each of these villages lied from one side of the hill where stood the church of the mount

A procession started in each, with the betrothed, and they merged in the meadow before the stairs of stones where they now were climbing


Now all the villagers were crowded in the church and they observed intently the two infants

Whose faces still were veiled, busy at listening the discourse of the priest

This was their first betrothal ceremony and each word was new to them

The discourse and the chants stretched on and on until arrived the moment to unveil faces and meet one another

Slowly, with shy, hesitant movements, the boy and the girl unveiled their faces and from the assembly, they brought their faces and their gazes toward one another


And the world stopped

He looked at her and she looked at him

And the church and the people were gone

A blur in a far away distance that seemed almost unreal

What was real instead were her eyes, his eyes

Looking at one another was like an embrace

An embrace of eyes and hearts

And suddenly the two motioned one toward another at the exact same time

Two little steps to cancel the distance between them that wasn’t a real distance even

Open arms wrapping around one another with force

That added to the embrace of eyes and hearts the embrace of bodies

And the world stopped a second time

And the people and the church no longer had any existence

And all the weights and the worries and the sadness of their life disappeared

And all what remained was trust and warmth and strength and love

So that is love, so that is love

Their thoughts and their hearts echoed

A love so deep it washed over them, it wanted to make them cry and laugh and laugh and cry at the same time

And they held one another with love and force and the conviction that nothing would separate them again

That together, nothing could resist them anymore


And suddenly it was over already

They were interrupted by the voices of the priest and the people

Voices that sounded as scream shards shattering their peace of hearts

A peace so strong yet so fragile

They clenched to one another, but they were forcefully separated

Kids, kids, that is enough, the priest said debonairly, did you listen to me or not?

I told you to meet one another, not to embrace

The embrace will have to wait another ten years, when you will both have reached an age of adulthood

Now, each of you will return to live in his and her village, and you shall not meet again until that time

Until you will come again in this church and be married and thus unite both your families in a bond of blood

And now let’s say the prayer of farewell…


But the boy and the girl did not listen to a single word of the priest

They couldn’t hug with their bodies but they stared in each other’s eyes

And their embrace was complete still

And it sang of love and serenity and strength and patience and promises

Until when the priest came and broke their communion for a second time forcing them to veil their faces and their eyes

And they were walked again out the church

They didn’t want to move but they were forced to

Their hearts heavy and their legs laden with sadness

So intense yet so brief had been their encounter

It had felt as if they had finally found a fire to warm one another in the middle of a snowstorm

And now they were again out in the middle of the storm

With the certainty of finding no place where to shelter for another ten years

They tried to slow their steps and still enjoy will all their senses the embrace of hand they still shared

But already they were in the meadow

Each going in a different direction


The boy walked toward home with his family

His heart filled with grief and love

With the joy of having found true love and the grief of having lost it already

For a moment that had lasted an eternity, he had felt so complete, so fulfilled, so warm and loved and protected

And now all the rest of his life had paled before that moment

He had seen the moon and the sun for the first time when before the world had only been lit by the stars

It was hard readjusting his eyes to the gloom, hard to pay attention to what happened around him, to the words of his family and his friends

He walked and kept on remembering her eyes, her gaze and their embrace

And he had heard her voice too, while going in the stairs before reaching the meadow

She had pressed his hands even more tightly and had whispered him that a mountain of time and space stood between them, but that he must remain strong and dauntless during all the climb, and that somewhere on this mountain hid a moonflower for them, the rarest of flower that opens one day only before dying

It was his quest to find the moonflower she had said, and when he would come near enough to the flower it would open and bloom to him, to their love, and guide him toward her

The boy repeated her mysterious words over and over to his mind

Until they became engraved in stone in his memory

Find the moonflower, find the moonflower, find the moonflower


And several years passed

And the fate of the two villages was not one of peacefulness and prosperity

As a fire, a feud, started between them

And families who were on friendly terms until the yestereve started to kill one another

An eye for an eye and no mercy shown

Many young men of the two sides fell, a knife in the belly or a bullet in the heart

The feud reached until the church of the mount which was burnt down to ashes

Along with the oak groves that surrounded it and sheltered the cemetery

A cemetery of calcined trees instead it became

And the war raged and raged until each family had lost at least a member

Until the betrothal between the boy’s and the girl’s family had been declared void and undesired

Until the girl’s village won and canceled the other one from the map and sent all its families into exile


The boy lived these years with a wrenching fear in his stomach

For himself and for his family, but also for her, his betrothed

Over and over he kept on remembering her face, her shining eyes and their perfect embrace

Over and over, over and over, he relived the intensity of that short moment of his life that had become a piece of heaven lost

He gripped to that moment with all the desperation of his heart

Until when his father was killed and his mother wounded trying to protect him

And he had to escape with his uncle’s family

And in one day he lost his home and his family

He moved to a large town with his uncle and there life started over

And the past was so grieving it became too painful to remember

And slowly the boy’s memories slid into forgetfulness

For years he didn’t open again this dusty shrine in his heart

Where hid the memories of his family and those of the girl

He still saw her blurred face sometimes, but it was more as a far away memory from another life

Something beautiful yet entirely unreal


And years passed again

And the boy grew into a melancholy young man who had lost his childhood and buried a part of his past

He was clever and well-read but he never found the love he so deeply craved for and yet he was almost unaware of this craving

Until the day in which his uncle decided to marry him to a decent young woman of the same neighborhood who she too came from the sunk, forgotten village

Another survivor, another martyr who had endured suffering and built herself a second shell

The man, who still was a boy in the soul, met her

But he couldn’t resolve himself on loving her

She was decent and kind and quite clever and almost pretty and she surely would become a good spouse and mother

But no, no screamed his heart, I don’t want to marry her

He tried to reason his heart, to offer himself many valid reasons

But no, the reaction of his heart was still stronger

And unexplained, both to himself and to his uncle

This refusal had thrown a shadow between them

And the boy decided to set off along his own way to rediscover his roots, to rediscover the doors to his own heart


And he traveled from one place to another

Unfulfilled still

Until when his feet brought him again to his little village which had been completely abandoned

There still were the external shells of houses, all painted of very light blue, but the painting was almost gone with the lichen and the vegetation eating at them

They were entirely empty from inside, they had been looted and devastated

The windmill too, was still standing, but his blades were broken and silenced

He crossed a few stray cats, many mice, and little else

He tried to remember in which house he lived with his bygone parents

But his memory refused to serve him, it was too painful to remember, too painful to see it so empty of life

The village brought him too many sad feelings, but the hill just above it looked inviting with its lush vegetation and he started climbing

He climbed and arrived to the meadow and went up the stone stairs

Until he reached the half-ruined church, it had lost its roof and all the oak trees around were dead except for one which beautifully sheltered the empty church

The boy hesitated a second and got in, on the paved floor which had disappeared under a thick carpet of dried leaves and glanses

He contemplated the floor for a moment, it was one of the most beautiful thing he had ever seen

He picked up a glans a felt its smoothness before pocketing it

And he walked toward the altar

He placed his hands on the white marble and felt the coldness of the stone, its smoothness, which had been grayed with time

And there between the altar and the external, rounded, roofless wall he noticed, stairs that went inside, under, the church, covered with heaps of dried leaves which had already become earth

Curious, he went down a few steps through these mysterious stairs he didn’t remember

He stopped a moment, hesitant

Then he raised his shoulders, he had nothing to lose, nothing to lose in this world

And continued his descent

It was a long, long flight of stair for such a modest church

And soon he had stepped in an underground cathedral that opened the way to a world of undergrounds

About Erik Vincenti Zakhia

Dear all, I will share with you many of my poems, short stories, drawings and paintings telling of my journey of self-discovery and my reflections about life, love, art, spirituality, sexuality, kundalini rise, and twin flames. They all fall within the realm of Hazen. May you have an inspiring visit!

One comment

  1. Pingback: Reuniting with my twin flame – Rediscovering Painting | Erik Vincenti Zakhia

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