The Fair Boy

It's been a while since I've written a story. And since I'm kinda free at the moment - drinking some chicken soup I just boiled, let's create one now, shall we? :)

Let us weave a story about wisdom. Perhaps we can start with a protangonist? A boy - young, fair and golden-haired, with the most piercing eyes any person will ever see; add a dramatic catchline: "his glance alone has caused kingdoms to fall". A name? No, names come at the end when all is over, for names speak of creation, and making speaks of ending.

Look into her eyes:
What did I see?
The brightest star
And the furthest sea.

Give the Fair Boy character - shall we say fickle, uncaring? Add disrespectful and unwise. Make him a Boy that has broken too many hearts, yet make him someone many have sought and found. For he is the ultimate prize, and yet a villain.

Her eyes that are closed:
What can they see?
Nor knife nor life
Nor fear in me.

But obviously we can't leave it at that. Give the Boy depth. Make our protangonist misunderstood - give him a precious heart of gold and yet weave a story of hatred, jealousy, anger, betrayal - engulf him like a blazing sandstorm; clad him in thorns and spikes; banish him from the town and city. Make him someone only perceived to be evil; make him sought after - and thus make him difficult to find, because it will be those that seek him that do not understand.

I stand on the heights:
Can you not see?
A fall, an arrest,
And then I'll be free.

And there in the fabric of our story we see the thread of wisdom. We have our quest and its prize, the boy, and we have the obligatory pitfalls of the journey. Now have it dictated on her own thread that wisdom is what will guide the questers, that wisdom is what will help them see beyond their warped perceptions, into the golden heart of the Fair Boy. And have it dictated that wisdom is what will keep them on the journey when their quest have seemed to have failed, or when, once again, they are blinded and see the Fair Boy as a villain instead of the prize he truly is, for it is wisdom that opens hearts.

Free as a bird:
Yet I did not see
That besides the plunge,
There was hope for me.

Now at the end of all things give the boy a name. Call him Love.