THE WAY OF A DREAM

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 854, 24 December 1929, Page 5

THE WAY OF A DREAM

It was the dawn of another day. The night, with its attendant atmosphere of quietness and calm, had slipped through the gates of Eternity as they had opened to release the awakening day. The first rippling cadences of the songs of the birds had shattered the silence of the sleeping world with a tumult of music, and the flaming glory of the sunrise, flashed shafts of radiance across the tremulous blue of the sky. And as the light of the morning touched the hills, the beautiful City of Everywhere, lying peacefully in the enfolding arms of the Valley of Contentment, awoke to life.

Quietly, content in the destiny, the Ruler had planned for -them the Dwellers of the City, each in his peculiar planner, hailed the glory of the new-born day. Suddenly, unheralded, a rider came over the brown rim of the hill. His robe was black as the night, and the coat of the horse he rode was of the same inky hue. His face was dark and menacing, his brow was knit in deep furrows, his mouth was set in a hard, unyielding line, and his eyes flashed with the glint of steel. He did not pause, but rode straight through the City until he disappeared into the shadowy aisles of the forest. But as he passed, the Dwellers of the Valley turned from one another in bitter hatred, and their voices became clipped and sharp, having small resemblance to the ones whose every tone had held a note of laughter. For Hate had entered the City, and in passing, had left an indelible scar on the hearts of the people. And it chanced that. %igh up a tower overlooking the City, a maiden sat weaving dreams. She saw the rider pass through the streets, saw the misery, that he left behind him, the agony of the tortured minds. And seeing, her heart was wrung with compassion, and her eyes were blurred with sudden tears, and gently she released the dream she held in her hands. Slowly, it floated down toward the City, and, as it fell, it was shattered into a thousand fragments. The Dwellers caught the tiny particles, and as thej* did so the curtain of darkness that had hung over the City was rent in twain. The children smiled again with the wondrous sweetness of childhood, and the Valley was once more the Valley of Contentment. The evening veils of rose and lavender and purple haze were drifting down into the Valley. To the right the mountains rose in rugged grandeur and somewhere up there the Ruler of the City and the Maiden from the tower watched the pageantry of coming dusk. And as they stood there, the Ruler raised his hands, and the fragments of the dream rose up to the heavens. Slowly they rose, until in the eastern sky one great star flashed its beacon of fire. For Hate, had come to the world, but Love, the Maiden, had, with her dreams, healed the wounds he had left in passing. And the dream, in tiv; semblance of a star, flooded the world with the light of Peace. —Green Bough (Norma Joll).