J.R.R Tolkien spoke of "Eucatastrophes" that moment after the terrible darkness when light breaks through against all odds; resurrection of hope when all hope seemed dashed against the rocks.
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Sprout, green with hope, pressed through the rocks into the glade of the Forest of Gloom, ever stretching towards the sun. Wide-eyed with wonderment it pronounced, “I will become a fruitful vine, spreading my glory without end until all the forests are filled with my flowers. Comely and delightful they will be to the forest creatures!”
Dark Night advanced filling the air with unending despair, cold voiced. “Dire words I send against Sprout, ‘Wither and die! Uproot yourself!’”
Dark Night called upon his Cruel Mountains, “Shower hopeful Sprout with boulders lest it advances in joy and leaves a floral sent and colored flowers to eat up the darkness of gloom!”
Pounding rocks crashed upon the Sprout, bruising and crushing him, with its gleeful hate. When the landslide was over, battered Sprout looked again into the sky for one ray of light, praying, “Come and warm my weary arms…heal that which is battered.”
Hateful, Dark Night saw Sprout still languishing, but still alive. “Rocks, you have failed!” it screamed in a tormenting tirade. “Death and Poison, Wretched Fire; come and crush hope’s desire! Curse and Malice do untwine, come and take this hopeful vine!”
Curse heard and clutched all in its path with its vice of leprous spots. Wretched Fire cast cloven tongues, consuming malevolence, wounding Sprout and leaving him near death. Wolves and Predators come to mock. “You dared hope against the evil tide, thinking you were more than a little seed! The ground you awoke in will now swallow all remembrance of you. No flowers! No Fragrance! Your ashes will blow away and none shall remember you!”
Sprout withered and shriveled under the harsh breath of enmity. He curled into a ball and crawled back under the soil to hide, weeping for loneliness. “I only wanted to bring joy into this world; but I am unable to do so. My desire to give a gift was laughed at and there were none to welcome me with open arms.”
Dark Night was happy. All light was quenched. The lands were filled once again with hopelessness and despair. No flicker of warm light was seen and so he called to his thunderclouds and said, “Watch over the forest. Blanket the accursed earth with eternal darkness!”
Sprout waited for death to overtake him, shivering and naked. “No more sap runs through these parched veins. I shall go now and my joy shall never be renewed.”
He heard the fluttering sound of a winged-creature, though no butterfly had graced Gloom’s Halls in eons. Sprout uncoiled to peak above the soil once more before retiring, only to see one strand of light. But the Gray Cloud did not think anything of this light, mocking it as an aberration. This one strand sung to Sprout, whispering, “Stay hidden beneath the soil. Wait here and I will come and nourish you.”
Day by day, the strand of light revisited Sprout, and whispered in secret, “You will be renewed.”
“But how can I grow when the Darkness torments me and sends its hounds to bay at my neck every morning!”
The light whispered, “You mustn’t worry. While Darkness attacked your withering branches, your roots were digging deep. While abrasive fire attacked your leaves, the moisture below was feeding you. Stay hidden and drink the warmth of my light. Then in a moment, your destiny will be fulfilled!”
Sprout could not hope or dream. He dared not. His roots were way below the ground, where he could not see. All within sight appeared bent and misshapen. Still, he had no choice but to rest in the light. For forty days Sprout lay in anguish, outstretched and waiting for death.
Darkness called, “Ah ha! I have succeeded in killing all color and mystery and have stolen what little grew of its own!” It pronounced its eternal curse. “Shadow of day and pestilence untold, mold and decay will forever take hold!”
In that moment, Sprout was revitalized. Life was restored and with dancing, his long leafed limbs shot up from the ground and clutched mightily the darkened wood. Flower petals unfolded from one end to the other.
Dazed, Darkness called, “Boulders, Fire, Poisons untold, come and hurry and crush the life of this hopeful vine!” All the evils of the forests came, but this time the vine had grown thick as logs. Terrible was the unfolding of Sprout’s wings. Now its flowers called out, “Light, come!” And the strand of light became a beacon, not only one but many. Light’s song flooded the forests with warmth and illumination. Its powerful rays stung the dark clouds, ripping and shredding them.
Rabbits and woodland creatures that were till now hidden in holes, crept back into the light and under the protective arms of sprout’s mighty limbs. The forests came alive and Darkness was blown away by a life giving wind.
Sprout looked about him and saw that all his dreams were fulfilled. He said to the Light, “Darkness came with its sting to swallow me, but in doing so only made me stronger. Why did I doubt what you told me in the secret place?”
“Only I can see what lay beneath the ground. What you saw as hopeless and dormant, is only what lay in sight.”
N Marion
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Sprout, green with hope, pressed through the rocks into the glade of the Forest of Gloom, ever stretching towards the sun. Wide-eyed with wonderment it pronounced, “I will become a fruitful vine, spreading my glory without end until all the forests are filled with my flowers. Comely and delightful they will be to the forest creatures!”
Dark Night advanced filling the air with unending despair, cold voiced. “Dire words I send against Sprout, ‘Wither and die! Uproot yourself!’”
Dark Night called upon his Cruel Mountains, “Shower hopeful Sprout with boulders lest it advances in joy and leaves a floral sent and colored flowers to eat up the darkness of gloom!”
Pounding rocks crashed upon the Sprout, bruising and crushing him, with its gleeful hate. When the landslide was over, battered Sprout looked again into the sky for one ray of light, praying, “Come and warm my weary arms…heal that which is battered.”
Hateful, Dark Night saw Sprout still languishing, but still alive. “Rocks, you have failed!” it screamed in a tormenting tirade. “Death and Poison, Wretched Fire; come and crush hope’s desire! Curse and Malice do untwine, come and take this hopeful vine!”
Curse heard and clutched all in its path with its vice of leprous spots. Wretched Fire cast cloven tongues, consuming malevolence, wounding Sprout and leaving him near death. Wolves and Predators come to mock. “You dared hope against the evil tide, thinking you were more than a little seed! The ground you awoke in will now swallow all remembrance of you. No flowers! No Fragrance! Your ashes will blow away and none shall remember you!”
Sprout withered and shriveled under the harsh breath of enmity. He curled into a ball and crawled back under the soil to hide, weeping for loneliness. “I only wanted to bring joy into this world; but I am unable to do so. My desire to give a gift was laughed at and there were none to welcome me with open arms.”
Dark Night was happy. All light was quenched. The lands were filled once again with hopelessness and despair. No flicker of warm light was seen and so he called to his thunderclouds and said, “Watch over the forest. Blanket the accursed earth with eternal darkness!”
Sprout waited for death to overtake him, shivering and naked. “No more sap runs through these parched veins. I shall go now and my joy shall never be renewed.”
He heard the fluttering sound of a winged-creature, though no butterfly had graced Gloom’s Halls in eons. Sprout uncoiled to peak above the soil once more before retiring, only to see one strand of light. But the Gray Cloud did not think anything of this light, mocking it as an aberration. This one strand sung to Sprout, whispering, “Stay hidden beneath the soil. Wait here and I will come and nourish you.”
Day by day, the strand of light revisited Sprout, and whispered in secret, “You will be renewed.”
“But how can I grow when the Darkness torments me and sends its hounds to bay at my neck every morning!”
The light whispered, “You mustn’t worry. While Darkness attacked your withering branches, your roots were digging deep. While abrasive fire attacked your leaves, the moisture below was feeding you. Stay hidden and drink the warmth of my light. Then in a moment, your destiny will be fulfilled!”
Sprout could not hope or dream. He dared not. His roots were way below the ground, where he could not see. All within sight appeared bent and misshapen. Still, he had no choice but to rest in the light. For forty days Sprout lay in anguish, outstretched and waiting for death.
Darkness called, “Ah ha! I have succeeded in killing all color and mystery and have stolen what little grew of its own!” It pronounced its eternal curse. “Shadow of day and pestilence untold, mold and decay will forever take hold!”
In that moment, Sprout was revitalized. Life was restored and with dancing, his long leafed limbs shot up from the ground and clutched mightily the darkened wood. Flower petals unfolded from one end to the other.
Dazed, Darkness called, “Boulders, Fire, Poisons untold, come and hurry and crush the life of this hopeful vine!” All the evils of the forests came, but this time the vine had grown thick as logs. Terrible was the unfolding of Sprout’s wings. Now its flowers called out, “Light, come!” And the strand of light became a beacon, not only one but many. Light’s song flooded the forests with warmth and illumination. Its powerful rays stung the dark clouds, ripping and shredding them.
Rabbits and woodland creatures that were till now hidden in holes, crept back into the light and under the protective arms of sprout’s mighty limbs. The forests came alive and Darkness was blown away by a life giving wind.
Sprout looked about him and saw that all his dreams were fulfilled. He said to the Light, “Darkness came with its sting to swallow me, but in doing so only made me stronger. Why did I doubt what you told me in the secret place?”
“Only I can see what lay beneath the ground. What you saw as hopeless and dormant, is only what lay in sight.”
N Marion