Soleia and the Light Once Known
The Light Behind the Curtain
In an old house facing east, there lived an artist named Soleia.
Each morning, before the world was fully awake, she would open her creaking wooden window. The first light touched the faded batik tiles on the floor, then brushed across her face—still marked by the weight of night: puffy eyes, a weary mind, and a heart yet to heal from its quiet grief.
Soleia had long forgotten what it meant to feel grateful in the morning.
The life she once painted in vivid colors now felt dull, like a canvas left in the rain. But something felt different that day.
As the thin curtain swayed gently in the breeze, a warm glow caressed her cheek. It wasn’t just sunlight—it felt like a memory, woven into the fabric of the morning air. She remembered the ancient stories once told—how people long ago worshipped the sun.
Not because they were naive, but because they saw the divine in its light.
“They weren’t wrong,” Soleia whispered. “Maybe they were simply honest with their gratitude.”
On her wooden desk, an old book lay open—a keepsake from her grandmother. Inside, a passage from a distant land read:
"In the days before the sky was filled with the noise of cities, people danced in the light and called it a blessing—not merely a phenomenon."
Soleia closed her eyes. The light, once only a backdrop to her paintings, now began to seep into her soul.
Traces in the Dust
The light lingered.
It filtered through the curtains, brushing the corners of the room where memories lay hidden beneath layers of dust. Soleia stood still, her fingers grazing the wooden frame of her window, as if trying to absorb something she couldn’t name. It was more than warmth—it was a call.
She turned away slowly and looked around her studio. The shelves were crowded with old sketchbooks, sun-faded postcards, and small bottles of dried paint. In the quiet, she could almost hear whispers from her past—voices of her grandmother, a teacher, a stranger on a train… fragments of wisdom that once passed unnoticed, like pollen on the wind.
On the far wall hung a painting she had never finished.
It was meant to capture the sun rising above a forest—soft gold spilling over the canopy, awakening birdsong and morning dew. But halfway through, she had abandoned it.
Too idealistic, she had thought.
Too hopeful for someone who no longer believed in beginnings.
But now, in this quiet moment, the canvas didn’t seem naive—it seemed patient. As if it had been waiting for her to see again.
Soleia reached for her brush.
She hesitated.
Instead of painting, she opened her grandmother’s book again. Between the pages, a pressed flower fell to the floor—a little frangipani, yellowed with time. She picked it up gently, smiling through a sudden ache in her chest.
“Did the ancients believe the sun spoke to them?” she wondered.
“Or was it simply their way of not forgetting the warmth in the world?”
She found another passage in the book, written in delicate ink:
"The sun does not ask to be worshipped.
It simply arrives, every day, like a quiet promise."
Soleia stood by the window once more.
Outside, the sun had climbed higher, but it hadn’t lost its gentleness.
She whispered, as if to no one and everything all at once:
“Maybe it’s time I remember the promises I once made.”
✨ Author’s Note
“Soleia and the Forgotten Light” is a quiet reflection on how nature, especially sunlight, can gently awaken our hearts. The story was inspired by the warmth of morning light—those fleeting moments when the world slows down, and even a single ray can feel like a whisper from something beyond.
In many ancient beliefs, the sun was revered not just for its power, but for what it represented: a connection to the divine. This story gently touches on the idea found in some traditions—that the light we see is like a veil, a glimpse of God’s radiance. That perhaps the brilliance of the sun is not meant to be fully looked at, just as the full essence of the Divine is too vast for our eyes. 🌞
Soleia is not just an artist, but a soul who listens—who remembers old stories, who pauses to feel what others rush past. Her story is about remembrance, not worship. About honoring nature, and through it, the sacred mystery that surrounds us.
May this story offer you a moment of peace, and maybe help you see the sunlight—not just as brightness, but as a quiet, loving reminder that you are not alone. ✨
With warmth and wonder
No comments:
Post a Comment