The Vision – A short story

A woman, young and vibrant – stood before me. I couldn’t see her face but I could tell from her aura that we had met before.  Tendrils of mine and wisps of hers  crept up to each other, and wove themselves around, in-between us. When they did, sparks of colors  flew everywhere.

She held out one hand, and I saw that they were scarred in many places.  In the other hand she held a beautiful rose whose thorns dug deep into her skin.  It hurt just to watch it, but she didn’t seem to mind.

Behind her was a painting. Huge, very huge, filled with colors of every shade.  It was in done in patches, curves,, blotches, lines, ragged edges, circles and many prints and patterns.  The most unusual thing about the painting was that it kept changing form; colors flowing like a river and repainting itself in a chaotic but organized way.  The painting was re-painting itself.  It was beautiful.

She did not speak, but in my mind I heard everything she said to me, crisp and clear, And this was what she said.

She was pleased to see me stronger and wiser, even though she didn’t expect to see me at all.

She said the painting was my journey, and it changed based on all the experiences I had encountered on this journey.  She told me not to be afraid of the end anymore because the painting was already beautiful. I could tell she was anticipating a spectacular piece!

She said the rose was my hope and love, my blessing and my curse.  No matter how much it hurt, she couldn’t let go.  If the rose died, she would die with it, and if she died, so would the rose, so no matter what she had to hold on as tightly as she could.

Together we watched the picture change and we  both smiled, because we both knew that it would always remain beautiful.

I knew what had to be done.  I took the rose.  “It’s mine now to keep.  Go on now and rest.  I’ll be waiting for her”.  As I took the rose, My hands bled, but I didn’t seem to mind.

Our auras sparked and sparked as they bonded, then separated.  Mine became brighter and stronger.  I felt her smile and sigh with relief.  Then she backed away into the night, while I sat, with the rose thorns bleeding my hand, watching the picture repaint itself, and waiting for the future to come for strength, just in case she lost her way.


And this my friends, ends our Valentine series.  I hope you found something valuable in each post… healing, acceptance, forgiveness, laughter, fun, and most of all, love.  And one more thing:

God is Love. Always was, always will be.  He is the source. Find him, and you have found everything. You can take that to the bank!God is Love!


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