One fine day, with the sun riding high,
I walked through a meadow beneath a big sky.

A man popped up with a curious stare—
“Where are you going, walking out there?”

“I’m just out walking,” I said with a grin.
“There’s no gate or fence, so I wandered right in.”

“Well go on, then,” he said with a laugh.
“But you’re not on a road — you’re stuck on a path.”

“A dead end?” I asked. “Oh, that’s not so bad.
Dead ends are peaceful. They make the heart glad.”

“No dead ends here. Just loops and turns.
Walk long enough, and back you return.”

I blinked and said, “I don’t quite see…
What’s the point of a walk that just circles me?”

“Then tell me,” he said, “before you go through—
What is it, exactly, that matters to you?”

“I pray for peace. For love. For grace.
For people to smile. For a kinder place.”

“Then pray from your heart, wide open and bright—
Like the sky above you, full of light.”

And so I kept walking, my thoughts like the air…
Wondering if maybe I’d always been there.

The Original Story Behind the Story

“And pray, where exactly do you suppose you’re heading?” he asked, peering curiously at me beneath raised eyebrows.

I glanced about—no gate, no fence, nor even the smallest signpost to suggest I’d strayed off-course. Indeed, it was merely a meadow, dancing gently beneath a breeze so soft it might have whispered secrets. “Surely,” I thought, “there can be no harm walking here, out of the town, beneath the sky.”

I met his gaze, and from the corners of my eyes, glanced about again, still trying to understand my hesitation. But all I found was exactly what I’d admired so fondly—the bright sky open wide as curiosity itself, amber grass gracefully nodding in gentle agreement, and sunlight dancing upon the surface, daring me to believe a miracle was possible at any instant.

Returning to his questioning eyes, I ventured, “Could it be that our lands have crossed paths here?”

He shook his head solemnly, “Oh, certainly not. Yet, if you continue along this path, you won’t journey far.”

Puzzled, I inquired, “Is there, perhaps, a dead end?”

Yet hardly pausing, I added cheerfully, “Not that dead ends are altogether unpleasant, mind you. There’s something rather charming in them—a certain sweetness, like settling upon a final thought after exploring every option. Or perhaps,” I mused aloud dreamily, “a heavenly dead end—like reaching a hilltop that overlooks the endless blue sea.”

At this, he burst into laughter. “No dead ends here,” he chuckled, “only circles upon circles. But suppose you found one—how ever would you return?”

“Why,” I responded confidently, “by the same path I’ve taken.”

“I’m sure you would,” he agreed. “Right back to where you began, no doubt.”

“Oh, if you’re suggesting these strolls are brief and merely circular, I quite enjoy them,” I declared cheerfully. “They’re rather charming, after all.”

He leaned closer, his eyes playful yet focused, and whispered, “Indeed charming. And how often, my dear, do you indulge in these delightful little journeys?”

It made me wonder, though not too deeply—nothing especially profound—just a sudden and peculiar occurrence.

And so I thanked him—because it felt polite—and continued on my way.

Yet something within me no longer moved quite the same. The words I’d spoken now felt old, as though I’d borrowed them from someone I once knew.

A well-timed awe.
A practiced silence.
Almost rehearsed.

And thus, the gentle sunlight remained soft. The amber grasses continued their elegant sway. And onward I walked, pondering—

“Perhaps this isn’t it at all.”

Troubled, I turned back toward him, approaching hesitantly. “What do I do now?” I asked, a hint of unease in my voice. “I can’t even enjoy my walk.”

With amusement, he replied, “What is it, exactly, that matters to you?”

I considered this carefully and answered, “I pray for life to be better , for people to smile, for the people I care about to have what they need and desire, and for peace.”

“He chuckled softly, eyes twinkling again with warmth. Then he spoke with tender conviction, “Ah, but to pray truly, you must pray from a heart as open as the sky you’ve been looking at, abundant like the nature you’ve admired, and lit with the same gentle glow that made you believe—not one trapped in the circular need of its own fear, endlessly retracing short journeys in search of heaven.”

The End

by Olivia