The Eternal Library
Somewhere at the edge of eternity, thus I have heard, there is a library and in it the most beautiful stories already written. From there an old men came to me and spoke:
»In our world, there are some stories we’d like people in your world to read. I will tell you those stories, for you to write them, so that they can be read on earth, as well.«
I became frightened, like sometimes, when I get in touch with the higher realms and said:
»In our world, there are some stories we’d like people in your world to read. I will tell you those stories, for you to write them, so that they can be read on earth, as well.«
I became frightened, like sometimes, when I get in touch with the higher realms and said:
»You know that I am not a fine writer! Words leak away from between my fingers and my pen, like pearls escaping into eternity. From your livid visions, on my pages, nothing will be left but miserable skeletons.«
»Ho!« the old men interrupted me with force. »If you’d be those words, would you not rather go to someone who would perhaps let you fly away into the distance, instead of locking you up into a prison made of paper and ink? Think: Words go to those, who sometimes let them escape.«
»But...« I said aghast, »will people, who read your stories, not miss those elusive words?«
»Are you suggesting that readers are dumber than writers?« the old man scolded me. »Don't you believe they can look at the sky themselves and see your loomed words, dancing in the wind the joy of freedom? No, no more excuses. Best for you to ask no further, because there is a message people must hear.«
I began to give in.
»What … what is that message?«
»The message is ... that times are changing ... and today is the first day of tomorrow. Tomorrow ... some people will evolve. They will be the ones who follow a soft, secret voice arising from within, until the inner voice becomes more powerful than any influence from the outside. These new people will begin to change the unseen world, the world of their thoughts and feelings, and with such change reality itself will change forever.«
»Don't make a mistake about it,« the old man continued. »This will be a revolution, but there will be no swords to fight it with, and no governments to be overturned. In fact, many people will sleep through it and never notice that it ever occurred. Those who do, however, will finally shape their own destiny.«
With these words, the old man disappeared, but left me his stories. Thus, here I am, working to turn stories from the Eternal Library, as justly as I can, into books. All the merits of the books I write come from the higher realms; all their faults are but my own.
It is my sincere hope that they will serve to re-connect us with the Miraculous.
With all my best wishes,
Viktória
»Ho!« the old men interrupted me with force. »If you’d be those words, would you not rather go to someone who would perhaps let you fly away into the distance, instead of locking you up into a prison made of paper and ink? Think: Words go to those, who sometimes let them escape.«
»But...« I said aghast, »will people, who read your stories, not miss those elusive words?«
»Are you suggesting that readers are dumber than writers?« the old man scolded me. »Don't you believe they can look at the sky themselves and see your loomed words, dancing in the wind the joy of freedom? No, no more excuses. Best for you to ask no further, because there is a message people must hear.«
I began to give in.
»What … what is that message?«
»The message is ... that times are changing ... and today is the first day of tomorrow. Tomorrow ... some people will evolve. They will be the ones who follow a soft, secret voice arising from within, until the inner voice becomes more powerful than any influence from the outside. These new people will begin to change the unseen world, the world of their thoughts and feelings, and with such change reality itself will change forever.«
»Don't make a mistake about it,« the old man continued. »This will be a revolution, but there will be no swords to fight it with, and no governments to be overturned. In fact, many people will sleep through it and never notice that it ever occurred. Those who do, however, will finally shape their own destiny.«
With these words, the old man disappeared, but left me his stories. Thus, here I am, working to turn stories from the Eternal Library, as justly as I can, into books. All the merits of the books I write come from the higher realms; all their faults are but my own.
It is my sincere hope that they will serve to re-connect us with the Miraculous.
With all my best wishes,
Viktória