-dedicated to her, if she knows it or not.

If i could see the world with your eyes, and feel it with your hands
If i understood words the way you read them, would i think just the way you do?
If i dreamt your dreams, and if i could sail upon your clouds
If your fears were mine, and i knew what you missed
I’d comb Heaven and Earth just to steal it for you…

If i heard what you hear, and spoke with your voice
If i could taste tastes as you do, and live the sweetness and all your pains…
If only i knew where your Sun was, or shared your very flesh and blood
If only the days passed the way time flies with you
I wish i’d know you like i knew myself…

I wonder if she hears this wish, lost amongst the winds of this seemingly endless plain. But this was no plain, for it was more like a garden, with huge statues of strange, grotesque figures. One was that of a pegasus, winged and proud, and although cast in stone, i thought i saw a glimmer in one of its stone eyes…and then i turned another corner, passing under a crumbling stone arch, walking along an ancient stone path.

I walked for what must have been hours, marveling at the timeless nature of this garden, with its many statues of fantastical creatures and inventions yet unknown, where a proud, armoured crusader posed next to his flying-machine, when i stumbled upon a clearing in the garden. Numerous paths seemed to converge here, so numerous that i could not count them. This was no Garden. This was Fate’s Labyrinth – a myraid puzzle of paths, roads and choices, each of which may lead to greatness, or to Hell. They may lead nowhere, although one could spend lifetimes walking any one path.

I can’t tell you how i came to know all this – everything just seemed to flow into my mind of its own accord, as if there was already a map etched into my very thoughts, albeit a map which only showed relevant parts as i explored this fantastic new world.

Just as how i somehow knew the path to take, even as i found myself in the heart of the labyrinth. I chose an unclear, pretty much unused path trodden in the garden, and upon taking my first step, i was assailed by a whirlwind of sound and light, so intense that i was forced to close my eyes and dig my fingers into my ears.

Even so, through my eyelids it was as bright as the very first time, as a little boy, that i stared into the Sun on a dare. The light faded, and the sounds which assailed me faded to the moanings of a hot, arid wind.

I opened my eyes, and blinked carefully. I was in the middle of a desert. The star lay to the West, neither nearer nor farther than when i first set foot in that labyrinth. Looking around, i noted, with a slight start, that all traces of the labyrinth i had wandered for hours were gone, as though they had never existed. Only a silent voice, which could have been whispered on the wind which whipped my face, sounding as old as time itself, spoke.

‘The Labyrinth of Fate, also known to some as the Garden of Destiny, is like all labyrinths and mazes – it’s huge, full of unexpected turns and dead ends. It has many untold secrets, horrors and wonders, and yes, any – any turn you make will change things, be they big or small. Did you make the right choice, little mortal?’

If only i knew…if only.

In a faraway place, in the realm of dreams
Of neverending nights, of a silvery-blue Moon
Where the gifts of the gods is that of life
and many a story to pass an endless night
Stories about nightmares, of ghosts and fears,
of forsaken places, and forgotten deserts

An ageless woman, the Queen of this desert
Holding the key to your heart, the secrets of your dreams,
the untold stories and hidden fears
Her eyes glimmer silver in the light of the Moon
She’ll hold your hand, and whisper away the loneliest night
Telling you things you’ll never hear again in your life

You’ll fall in love – she’s the one for life
‘I can’t love you – this place i cannot desert
What of other travellers, lost in the black nights?
I can give you an illusion of my love, in a neverending dream
Tonight you can be my Sun, and i your Moon
But as morning breaks, and the moonlight fades, i must leave you, i fear…’

The High Priestess speaks to you; her voice allays your fears
She smells of summer wine, the vitality of Life;
You think you’ve seen her face before, in the crescent of the newest Moon
She gives wrongdoers their just deserts,
just as she gives dreamers their fantasies and dreams
She gives you light and meaning, like a beacon in the night

And just on this one magical night
For you to face your weaknesses and conquer your fears;
For you to transcend reality and live in dreams;
For the time of your life;
You’ll see the snow fall in the desert,
and the smiling face of the sleeping Moon

The High Priestess, of the Order of the Moon
She dances proud, amongst the dark sands of the night
A lone, scared soul she’ll never desert
Her twirls and whispers’ll still those fears
And give you strength, to live your life
But morning comes, and she goes, and maybe it was nothing but a dream…

The Moon is said to bring insanity out of your fears;
But the Priestess will show you Life, in this darkest of all nights
If ever you wander this desert of dreams.

for xiaole…what strange conversations we have!

Potted plants are probably one of the saddest life-forms around. Sunflowers are always bright and smiling, and even the yuccas and wild-flowers which grow by the roadside are a cheery yellow. Even the most poisonous of plants, like belladonna, have crops of shiny, black berries which glimmer gently in the sunlight like jewels. Some plants, like the mandrake, are so happy in the ground that, it is rumoured, uprooting it will cause the root to shriek in distress, maddening, if not killing the creature which performed the dastardly act.

That's the reason why people use dogs to pull out mandrake roots, such that the screaming would kill the dog, if the owner ran away quickly enough.

Coming back to potted plants, it's simple why they must be the sulkiest plants around. You normally see them sitting around in their pots, sulking. Perhaps that's where the saying 'i feel like a potted plant' comes about…they feel absolutely useless, unable to contribute and unable to grow, especially the large plants growing in those huge earthenware pots you see by the roadside or in buildings. They're not cared for with love, and although large, they are only given a pot to grow in. They can't move around to be together, and they're spaced out regularly to give humans a sense of aestethic delight – these plants are perhaps the saddest in existence. They sulk, get watered once a day, and then continue sulking.

Now, potted plants which are cared for tenderly and with love, which are watered with care and given enough nutrients to grow, are perhaps materially satisfied, but spiritually not, especially bonsais, which are trimmed every now and then to maintain a perfect shape.

How would you feel if every week or so someone came and snipped off a finger or two? (Assuming your fingers grow back miraculously, that is…) Most displeased, wouldn't you?!

Most other potted plants would just feel something lacking, and probably a strange sense of jealousy when they see wild plants growing outside the windowledge…imagine getting jealous of creepers and weeds! It's demeaning, and although they know that they're more cared for, they miss that freedom they had, facing also the loneliness of it all to contend with. Yes, the yuccas fluorish because there's unlimited Lebensraum – they're many, and that's why they're yellow and cheery.

Have you ever watched those shows where people just find themselves in a huge field of sunflowers, and they're all happy and free and all? It's because moods are contagious. The sunflowers are happy, having many other sunflowers to be with, and forever soaking up the Sun in an idyllic setting…and that, in turn, affects us humans, making us lose our inhibitions and wander around in a happy daze.

So if you have potted plants, dear dreamer, here is a word of advice to you. Love them as best as you can, if you will not let them go. Or keep two small potted plants together, and who knows, they may be much better off!

Sweet dreams… 

I woke up to a beautiful dawn, with the sky coloured the hues of the rainbow, and an unfamiliar face staring down at me. Could it be my Heart's Desire, come such a long way to see me and give me the comfort i needed, the cure for my insecurities and the conclusion of my quest?

I blinked the sleep from my eyes, and looked again.

He was stark naked, for one thing. And he had a sack around his shoulders, which was worn and torn from his travels. He looked definitely the worse for wear, but there was, despite the fatigue, a childish delight i could perceive in his eyes. And in some strange form of greeting, he said cheerily, 'Plippy Ploppy Smelly Cheesy.'

I sat up, stretched and offered him a little cheese from my pack, which he accepted gratefully, saying, 'i had a bunch of blackberries with me which got stolen by some ants.'

'So what?'

'I tried to argue with them in their antsy language, which probably went 'lalelololo,' but they just took my blackberries away.' He nibbled on the cheese sadly. And suddenly it dawned upon me. Here, sitting before me, was probably the Fool which i heard so much about in my own world, but whom i believed was only nothing more but words and idle fantasies. And i asked, cautiously, 'Where are you going to, kind Fool?'

He beamed, as if there was someone who finally addressed him correctly. Drawing himself upright, he proclaimed proudly, 'I am going on a journey.'

'Where to?'

'I don't know,' he admitted, 'just…somewhere over there,' pointing absentedly at some place over the horizon, away from where my fallen star lay. Suddenly, he said, 'I met an Emperor yesterday who went around showing off his new clothes. I told him that he was naked.' As a wise man once told me, it is the prerogative of fools and children to note that the Emperor has nothing on, but the Emperor remains the Emperor, and the fool a fool. He looked up and smiled a foolish smile, as if impressed at his good fortune to still have his head on his neck. Then the smile faded, and he asked sadly, 'I'm lonely. And hot. And scared. Will you walk with me for awhile?'

To which i naturally agreed.

The mysterious plains were peaceful and beautiful, with blue-green grass which swished gently in the breeze. A bunch of sunflowers, sticking out of the plains as if they were a road-sign, smiled down kindly upon us as they basked in the morning Sun. We walked in silence before he suddenly asked a question, a most strange question indeed:

'What's the name of something with big eyes, hoots and is awake at night?'

'An owl. Is there something you actually have for me?' I asked unpatiently, but not unkindly.

'What's the name for something which you keep wanting once you have a taste of it, and then when you have enough of it from someone, you want the same something from someone else?'

It shocked me. I had always thought that my love for my Heart's Desire would never waver, but it struck a chord deep down within me, as if someone had reached within me and twisted my heartstrings. I gulped and said, 'i don't know.'

We reached a fork in the road, and i knew it was time for us to part ways. I could feel the fallen star drawing me along, calling out to me. The Fool looked me up and down, wiggled his eyebrows, and bade me farewell. I stood, watching his naked figure dance down the left fork, hearing his bright, cheerful humming.

I whispered softly after him, 'Love.' Love is that thing. It is as addictive as any opium, and as difficult to give up. Many have spent lifetimes, squandering their youth in a quest for love, which might have been foolish, or which might have come to naught. Some find them, and spend their lives happily ever after, because they can never get enough of this love. Some others find it, then go on to find a different kind of love, a difference which was only skin-deep and nothing more. It was that thrill, that heady feeling which many can't give up. But some live in that very heady feeling when they find it, and will continue to live in it forevermore.

Who's to say that my Heart's Desire, my lady-love would feed my craving and satisfy my needs? And who's to say that i could do the same to her? I could still remember the condescending ring of her eyes, and the patronising tone of her voice. For they say that Desire is but a creature of the moment – and who could say when my heart would change?

I stood and stared for what must have been a very long time, for when i turned back to behold once more the great magical plain, even the sunflowers, who had smiled so warmly and comfortingly at us while we made our way past them, had averted their glances.

In the desert of Aarash, there exists an oasis.

This is not any ordinary oasis, for most, if not all, travellers who crossed this desert see neither palm trees nor the serene pool of crystal-clear water. Only the many gods and immortals who wander this world may see, visit and rest their weary feet in the clear waters of this desert pool. Those who have discovered this oasis are invited to sit and rest in the shade of the palms, and to drink the cool waters of the oasis, while many others have perished of thirst, hunger, or insanity in the cruel desert outside.

In this oasis lives a mage. It is widely rumoured amongst the immortals that he made this oasis invisible, and the magics which cloak it shall fade with his passing, making the oasis visible again; but then again, one could never be sure if he had already refused Death by making sure she could never find this oasis anyway. (The alternative, as he saw it, would be to unleash a plague amongst the unwitting people so that Death would be kept too busy to take him.)

This mage, it must be said, was not the old and wizened man one would expect, for he was youthful, with a leap in his step and a mischievious grin in one eye; yet those who did stop at the oasis could not remember a time when this mage did not exist. He had lively sapphire eyes which belied his years, and a smile which had earned him the affections of many women (immortals and mortals alike,) for it had a way of breaking down even the thickest of barriers. Because of his exploits, he was a notorious, albeit masterful heartbreaker – he would tell his lover to close her eyes gently, and make her float gently into the sky, only on condition that she keep her eyes closed. Then, he would steal away into the night, never to be seen again.

And of the lady? Well, if she opened her eyes she'd plummet screaming to the ground and a messy death…not the best of endings, but an ending still. If not, she would experience a gentle rising feeling, above the trees and far beyond, and when she finally felt her feet on terra firma again, she would open her eyes to find him gone – but by then she would have understood (as people in this magical world normally do) that those which wield the magics are people best left alone – it would just be another beautiful summer romance which lasted one night, was erotic and messy, but over. And then Life, or Death would make them forget. And life would go on, as it always does.

But all that talk about immortals and lovers were not what he was most famous for. Once every half-decade (for years in these parts are counted in decades,) the oasis becomes visible for all. Mortals and immortals, men and women, animals and gods, all are welcome to sit amongst the trees, and to stock up on a miraculous tincture known as Aarash's All-Purpose. As it said on the label, 'Will ensnare Death (or at least tell her to come back tomorrow,) restore youth, heal wounds, bring luck, and lots more!'

He also leaves the oasis from once every tenth-decade to travel to the village in the middle of nowhere, to buy sunshine and moonlight, and returns to the oasis to write fantastic stories about distant places and long-dead travellers. In fact, most of it is untrue, but not that he seems to care for the veracity of his tales. Tall tales or not, he says, stories are probably the only records of things which will exist on across the millenia, even after the hard facts have turned into dust. And because these stories will probably be told to children, why not make it as dreamlike as possible, such that these children, whose minds are closest to the Dreamtime, have a chance to wander the Dreamtime again before Everyday steps in, with its huge burden of daily worries.

With so many occupations, one wonders why he was not named 'the Teller' or maybe 'the Man at the Invisible Oasis.' Many wonder if the Creator of this world wanted him to be called the Mage. But ask our Mage, and he will tell you the reason why. It's a long, complicated story, about love, promises and a quest for a star…and one that is still unfolding as this very story is being told to you.

And then you look up, trying to comprehend what's been told to you, all the little secrets, by this strange man with the piercing blue eyes. And he bids you to close your eyes. You feel gravity losing its grip upon you, and suddenly the Sun is in your eyes, and the birdsong is unusally loud.

Don't open those eyes.