Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Two Tales
Let's be honest, there is no piper.
A piper could have guided them home, or perhaps just into the local river... but they were lost, two separate stories, two separate sets of protagonists.
Once upon a time, in a not-so-faraway land a princess was born.
Princesses are born, and not made.
She was lucky to be born a princess - not everybody has this privilege. Many are the tales of pleasant peasant girls transformed into overnight queens by their passing Prince Charmings... in truth, reality bites. It's a rare thing for Prince Charming to consider marrying - let alone seriously dating a peasant girl. It would take - too much effort. On both their parts.
Few and far between are the stories of princesses who don't succumb to odd sleeping sicknesses or unspeakable abuse at the hands of horny dwarves, or wind up sweeping out the insides of pumpkin chevrolets or what have you.
And so too did this princess face hardship when her realms were shattered and her lands seized from her, her sister, father and mother.
It was a time of trial for her, and these words are not mine to relate.
She even lost her knight in tarnished armour… although that is another story (and a half) entirely.
It is to her credit though that despite all this she still blossomed into a true princess - a creature of grace and beauty that any fool the world over would be able to recognize.
For true beauty is more than skin deep, and though she hid it well behind her practiced eyes and easy smiles... she had learnt humility, and empathy. In the world she had spent her time in, these were redundant traits - if not outright signs of weakness.
And despite the odds - or, perhaps because of them - she was every inch a princess... a queen in the making.
And then one day, she began to sing...
*****
You don't really have to be born a princess, to become a queen. It just makes it... that much more likely.
Most highborn princesses just mature into spoilt brats.
*****
It is a sad truth that the real world is the real world. Thus it was that though she grew into a creature of great beauty, her courtiers were not of her ilk. And her heart was broken, over, and over again.
Nice girls… never win, either.
*****
At or around this time, a prince was born. His parents, The King and Queen were… rather eccentric, and spent the best part of his life persuading him that they were extremely poor farmers… with a big farm. Being of a gullible and trusting nature, he believed them unquestioningly, even as they visited the three other farms they occasionally visited, to check on construction, worker efficiency, and rental conditions, and whiled their nights away at lawn parties and town clubs.
It is to their credit – and perhaps it was their intention? – that he never thought to become a flashy, spoilt rich kid. Sometimes, wandering through the extravagant lawn parties (and playing with the gorgeous pedigree dogs) of the “family friends”, he paused to wonder what exactly he was even doing here, dressed in his grungy rags (which he quite intentionally chose to attend in). Later, when he was older and understood more clearly the nature of things, he gazed upon these perfect, preening specimens of physical immaculateness and sneering condescension in abject horror and wondered how people like this could even bear to be around themselves.
Perhaps it was the fault of The Three Princes of Serendip – or perhaps it was just happy coincidence, but somewhere along the way he stumbled into a princess who was – many, many things.
Truth be told, he did'nt really stumble into her – she tried, cold bloodedly and mercilessly, to assassinate him with a single gunshot to the back. But she was a modern girl, and modern girls tend to do things like that these days.
The long and short of it is that he fell madly in love with her from the first hello, till the last goodbye.
She was many, many things, but above all, she was a good person - courageous, able, yet humble. She was someone whose company and advice he cherished.
And then they parted ways. But that, too is another story.
Things were never quite the same afterwards... it's difficult to find your way back to harbour when you've been broadsided by an oil tanker, and the splinters of your yacht settle gently to the seabed all around you.
It's difficult to... hide the sound, of a voice you'd know anywhere. (Jann Arden)
But he tried, and as the years passed he deluded himself into chasing down shadows of the past, fleeting attractions became of the utmost importance, because... there wasn't any meaning, anywhere.
The Missing never stopped - there was, after all, all throughout a friendship behind it all... and friendships of that nature are meant to endure, not be cut short by a silly boys stupidity.
There are moments nearly forgotten now, of vague attempts to repair the damage done... but as time passed the break seemed to weld ever more steadily into permanence.
And perhaps it is done now, at last. Perhaps there is no road back. We shall see.
Once, in his folly - for as he aged, his mind seemed to disintegrate yet more - he tried to build a princess. He often saw great potential in people, and in this pretty child he saw burning desires that shifted and flared... ambitions and needs that were unusual in someone of her... standing. And he saw a princess that might have been, and he wanted to help her break free of her chains, of her chrysallis.
But as he tried, he learnt - the hard way - that without grace... one can never truly learn to be... more than one is. And she was... far too simple a creature.
Perhaps I have forgotten to mention that the farm-prince had grown an acquaintence with the princess of the story before. You see, they lived in neighbouring provinces, and had become fast friends.
And he knew her for a princess - he was foolish, but not entirely blind - and he watched her, from time to time. And he knew her for the creature of grace, and beauty that she was, and sometimes they made each other laugh, just a little... hands firmly on the steering wheel.
She would never be his queen... they were not cut of that mold... but she was, very evidently to his eye - a Queen to be.
And so much, much more, than a Princess to be.
And then one day it struck him...
... that he had been helping the wrong person, all along.
*****
So this is the farm-prince, pledging allegiance to the pauper princess.
In what ways I can help you, I will, always.
Because you are worth it, because I believe in you.
(And so too do the Happy Prince... and a host of other people...)
You have but to ask.
A piper could have guided them home, or perhaps just into the local river... but they were lost, two separate stories, two separate sets of protagonists.
Once upon a time, in a not-so-faraway land a princess was born.
Princesses are born, and not made.
She was lucky to be born a princess - not everybody has this privilege. Many are the tales of pleasant peasant girls transformed into overnight queens by their passing Prince Charmings... in truth, reality bites. It's a rare thing for Prince Charming to consider marrying - let alone seriously dating a peasant girl. It would take - too much effort. On both their parts.
Few and far between are the stories of princesses who don't succumb to odd sleeping sicknesses or unspeakable abuse at the hands of horny dwarves, or wind up sweeping out the insides of pumpkin chevrolets or what have you.
And so too did this princess face hardship when her realms were shattered and her lands seized from her, her sister, father and mother.
It was a time of trial for her, and these words are not mine to relate.
She even lost her knight in tarnished armour… although that is another story (and a half) entirely.
It is to her credit though that despite all this she still blossomed into a true princess - a creature of grace and beauty that any fool the world over would be able to recognize.
For true beauty is more than skin deep, and though she hid it well behind her practiced eyes and easy smiles... she had learnt humility, and empathy. In the world she had spent her time in, these were redundant traits - if not outright signs of weakness.
And despite the odds - or, perhaps because of them - she was every inch a princess... a queen in the making.
And then one day, she began to sing...
*****
You don't really have to be born a princess, to become a queen. It just makes it... that much more likely.
Most highborn princesses just mature into spoilt brats.
*****
It is a sad truth that the real world is the real world. Thus it was that though she grew into a creature of great beauty, her courtiers were not of her ilk. And her heart was broken, over, and over again.
Nice girls… never win, either.
*****
At or around this time, a prince was born. His parents, The King and Queen were… rather eccentric, and spent the best part of his life persuading him that they were extremely poor farmers… with a big farm. Being of a gullible and trusting nature, he believed them unquestioningly, even as they visited the three other farms they occasionally visited, to check on construction, worker efficiency, and rental conditions, and whiled their nights away at lawn parties and town clubs.
It is to their credit – and perhaps it was their intention? – that he never thought to become a flashy, spoilt rich kid. Sometimes, wandering through the extravagant lawn parties (and playing with the gorgeous pedigree dogs) of the “family friends”, he paused to wonder what exactly he was even doing here, dressed in his grungy rags (which he quite intentionally chose to attend in). Later, when he was older and understood more clearly the nature of things, he gazed upon these perfect, preening specimens of physical immaculateness and sneering condescension in abject horror and wondered how people like this could even bear to be around themselves.
Perhaps it was the fault of The Three Princes of Serendip – or perhaps it was just happy coincidence, but somewhere along the way he stumbled into a princess who was – many, many things.
Truth be told, he did'nt really stumble into her – she tried, cold bloodedly and mercilessly, to assassinate him with a single gunshot to the back. But she was a modern girl, and modern girls tend to do things like that these days.
The long and short of it is that he fell madly in love with her from the first hello, till the last goodbye.
She was many, many things, but above all, she was a good person - courageous, able, yet humble. She was someone whose company and advice he cherished.
And then they parted ways. But that, too is another story.
Things were never quite the same afterwards... it's difficult to find your way back to harbour when you've been broadsided by an oil tanker, and the splinters of your yacht settle gently to the seabed all around you.
It's difficult to... hide the sound, of a voice you'd know anywhere. (Jann Arden)
But he tried, and as the years passed he deluded himself into chasing down shadows of the past, fleeting attractions became of the utmost importance, because... there wasn't any meaning, anywhere.
The Missing never stopped - there was, after all, all throughout a friendship behind it all... and friendships of that nature are meant to endure, not be cut short by a silly boys stupidity.
There are moments nearly forgotten now, of vague attempts to repair the damage done... but as time passed the break seemed to weld ever more steadily into permanence.
And perhaps it is done now, at last. Perhaps there is no road back. We shall see.
Once, in his folly - for as he aged, his mind seemed to disintegrate yet more - he tried to build a princess. He often saw great potential in people, and in this pretty child he saw burning desires that shifted and flared... ambitions and needs that were unusual in someone of her... standing. And he saw a princess that might have been, and he wanted to help her break free of her chains, of her chrysallis.
But as he tried, he learnt - the hard way - that without grace... one can never truly learn to be... more than one is. And she was... far too simple a creature.
Perhaps I have forgotten to mention that the farm-prince had grown an acquaintence with the princess of the story before. You see, they lived in neighbouring provinces, and had become fast friends.
And he knew her for a princess - he was foolish, but not entirely blind - and he watched her, from time to time. And he knew her for the creature of grace, and beauty that she was, and sometimes they made each other laugh, just a little... hands firmly on the steering wheel.
She would never be his queen... they were not cut of that mold... but she was, very evidently to his eye - a Queen to be.
And so much, much more, than a Princess to be.
And then one day it struck him...
... that he had been helping the wrong person, all along.
*****
So this is the farm-prince, pledging allegiance to the pauper princess.
In what ways I can help you, I will, always.
Because you are worth it, because I believe in you.
(And so too do the Happy Prince... and a host of other people...)
You have but to ask.
