i hope my words are strange and wondrous,

like kisses that quiet all things superfluous,

so that we can all stop and

listen

who lived with his three volcanoes and a flower with four thorns.

the story of the little prince fascinates me,

i re-read this beloved classic last night, to prep for a future small group discussion session on it

and i was captivated again, by the beauty that lies in the simplicity of this story,

in the telling of a children's tale there is much truth revealed about life.

as i lay in bed thinking, of the Little Prince and his flower,

i wonder about my Little Prince,

and my four thorns.

i wonder about the asteroid i live on, and whether or not my prince has returned to save me from the threat of an unmuzzled sheep, or a sprouting baobab.

i think about taming, and how he would have tamed me as much as i tamed him,

and that for him all stars are lovelier because on one star i blossom in resolute determination

and believe that my four thorns will fight off a tiger.

i would like to meet my Little Prince,

but it'd be sort of different,

because i'd be his flower,

but also his narrator.

and he really wouldn't be the sort of child the Little Prince is,

because he'd be grown up,

like the narrator.

its sad how certain comparisons have to break down eventually.

i wouldn't like to be a vain, haughty rose, saying things contrary to how i really feel.

but i would love to belong to a Little Prince,

and live together with him on some planet

and we'd love each other, having tamed each other

and watch 44 sunsets together.

if you see my Little Prince,

could you tell him i'm waiting?

it's quite lonely here,

on this planet with only three volcanoes

and some

maybe

baobabs.