In a very small village in the heart of the country sits a very special place. In this setting wonderful things happened day and night. The people of the village would come in and spend a little time or spend all day. All would leave with a bit of the spark, a bit of the sparkle that is a part of the special magic of this town.
To the outside world this village seems ordinary. It seems no different than any other place in their or any world. Until and if they entered this town even if it were for a brief moment.
This little village is a small place filled with interesting, yet quiet people. Travelers pass through this town every day with busy eyes and busy thoughts of things they need to see and to do somewhere else. It would be so easy to not even remember passing through this sweet little village.
But if they do. If they step out of their carriages they sense something in the air. The air buzzes with the wind. The travelers are not exactly certain what it is about the location. But, there’s something. There’s a sweetness in the air. There’s a special color to the light. A color no one can define. The traveler may feel that they’re entering into a beautiful daydream.
If they pause long enough, if they breathe the village air long enough they may wander. They may try to find the source of the just what is that on the tip of their tongue and mind. But, some are so heavily laden with their thoughts and with all that they have to see and have to do that they shake off the sense of something else as if it were a leaf or a small bug that landed on their shoulder. And the traveler would leave.
This village has a very long, long history. Travelers from far away lands ventured with their gifts and with their knowledge of lands and people and of a special magic. The travelers knew that this journey would be long. They knew that they would never return to their ancient home and land.
Some would gather in jars handfuls of their earth with all the bits and pieces of their long history melded together. Some would twirl and sweep their jars around and around themselves to gather the air around them. Some swooped high and gathered bits of the fluff of the clouds above. And some even ventured on their highest hill and leapt as high as they could to capture a bit of the sparkle of the night. Some would rise early in the morning and silently gather in the mist and the colors of the morning light.
All gathered seeds, a lot of seeds. These seeds varied. Each seed had a special purpose. Each seed would grow into wonderful and amazing things. They gathered, swooped and swept all of the elements of ages past and ages to come that made their home unique and that made them as a people like no other.
There were a handful of them who wore about them cloaks woven with the special knowledge of the people. Certain threads of these cloaks were bejewelled with nuggets that held within them the wisdom of special skills. These skills were needed to create and to recreate places and spaces in their new home.
One of the deepest, bluest most radiant of knowledge was that once upon a time all of the land was one. All of the people were one and this special place and special land where the travelers' father's fathers and their fathers were from was the heart of the whole world.
Then at one time the people wanted more. The further they ventured from the heart of the country and of the people the dimmer the light and the fragrance of the village became. They found and entered into dark places. In these locations the people began to be greedy, selfish and mean. Some began to weave cloaks of their own and dipped some of the threads of their cloaks into the darkest, murkiest of their knowledge...and they developed their own seeds.
These seeds bore thorny bushes and deceptive fruit. These bushes lured others in and pierced them with their thorns infecting them with the darkness. And the darkness spread.
This darkness was so heavy and so foul that the earth couldn't bear the weight of it. So it began to shake and to quake and to crack. The deep, deep waters that cooled the earth began to seep upwards and further divide the lands. Until all were separated by long distances making crossing difficult.
In these lands were a mixture of the magical and good as well as the dark lights. The people began to adapt and to forget how they once were all close and once were all one and once were all under the same glorious, brilliant light.
Except for the people of the heart of the world where the light, the air, the ground, the plants and the stars remained pure. Where the knowledge of the history of the world and the knowledge of the magic of times and of people's past remained.
So, this group of travelers gathered. They gathered their treasures of knowledge, of skills, of magic and of hope. Their hope was that they could travel the world and plant seeds that would attract some to wonder, to learn, to understand and to grow in the ancient knowledge of their world and of the people.
The last and perhaps most important group within the travelers were the guardians. These guardians were the protectors and keepers of the secrets of the special magic of their world and within each of them they had their own special skills. These skills would be passed down in ages to come only to special people. These people had to have the right heart, eyes and minds to be able to know and understand the secret knowledge, the special magic and the skills of the ancients.
Then when all necessary was gathered and all necessary travelers were prepared, they left the shores of their lands and headed west. The cloaked ones felt in their hearts that there was another land similar to their home. This land had rolling hills and beautiful light in the morning, afternoon and at night. This land had clean, clear air, and bright clouds. This land had the earth that was ready for the seeds and for the jars filled with land from the ancient country. The cloaked ones let their hearts guide the travelers to this place. They traveled for lengths and lengths of time over waters that were mixed with light and darkness. The waters were crisp blue in some parts and in others the deepest of deep black. Some of the waters were shallow and filled with color while others were long and deep seemingly without end. The travelers observed these waters and continued their journey with the light of the day to guide and the glowing light of the night to map their direction.
Then, there it was. The shores of the land. But, this shore was not the source of the pure, rolling hills. The cloaked travelers knew they would have farther to venture in their journey. They would have to reach the heart of this new land. This is where their magic, knowledge and skills would flourish. The cloaked travelers knew that magic and knowledge always resided in the heart of the land and of the people. They set their faces and smiled knowing that soon they would all reach their destination and that then they could begin to create the village that would house a special place for all of the traveler’s knowledge, skills and magic. There the guardians would reside and protect all that the travelers brought with them.
Together the traveler’s knew their purpose. When they reached the faraway land and found the heart of it they would spread the magic from their homeland. They would plant the seeds of knowledge and skills. They would put together and bind paper bits and pieces of all they had and knew and bring it all into one intriguing place, known as the library.
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