David Lyons first young adult novel The Dream Voyagers was published in October 2015 by Raven Crest Books UK and has been applauded by everyone who has read it. Most claiming it is a story they will always remember. David also composes music and lyrics and currently one of his songs Play On My Heart Strings recorded by Michelle Lally is on RTE Radio 1’s playlist for the past few weeks and is being played by most Irish radio stations.
THE RIVER THE TREE AND THE ROCK
By David Lyons
Once there was a silent peaceful river, whose presence soothed my restless heart. Whose water ran slow and deep, and demanded nothing from me, but breathed life into my anguished soul. Who even though I ran breathless and scared through a world of conflict and ever changing turmoil, always welcomed me lovingly back to its tranquillity , to its serenity, to its never changing presence, in a time of constant unrest. I would unleash my heart to dance free on its water and cleanse its self, removed and liberated from its impeded and superficial home.
My reflection in its smoothness was always as I wanted to see, no wrinkle, no anguish, no world weary gaze, but a never ageing youth and a freshness that in reality, had long since vanished. For I had eternal youth in its presence. No blemish or disillusioned spirit gathered by time had visibly afflicted me. Here I could be the person I once remembered, filled with expectation and wonder from that time when all was new and fresh and waiting to be explored. Now I would wash myself in its water, floating serenely in its sanctuary, and shed all angst gathered from the world.
And then on the bank in the moments until dry, I would feel as my reflection flatteringly portrayed. For we both saw each other distinct from time, ageless in a world of decay. Just to listen to its tranquil unassuming sound, as it carried away all my worries with it on its journey to the sea, had the impact of a marching legion on me, even though it sought no glory, and I sadly gave it no praise.
Once there was a tall tree, who stood majestically alone on a hill, and whose branches stretched out like strong arms to hold me. Whose leaves protected me when tears fell, as I cowered humbly beneath their defensive shadow. In spring the sound of the birds, who hatched life in its branches, performed harmonies with the breeze that gently caressed its leaves, to compose a sound and bestow a feeling that no mortal could ever imitate. Its strength in calm and storm shielded me and its gentleness made the magnitude of my supposed problems insignificant. I would run there and fall on the ground beneath it when people cast me out, and spill out my torments, and it would absorb each and every one and liberate my reason until I felt like the fresh white blossoms on it’s branches. I would carry one of those blossoms with me back to reality and hold it close to my heart, and its scent would propel my mind back to the succour of the tree in times of adversity.
Once there was a rock in a field of briars, where I would climb to escape the thorns, and there I would sit and stare in terror, as each briar fought with it’s neighbour to stretch taller as if trying to capture the last ray from the sun. Their incessant discord and callous greed for sunlight killed all life beneath them, as they would kill each other, except for the equality of their capabilities, but the rock stood high above them, far beyond their competence to climb, and in the midst of their constant striving, they never even noticed it was there. But it found me, and saved me so many times from the light starved wilderness at the briars stem, where I would have wandered lost, and eventually die, in the darkness.
But the river, the tree and the rock have all gone now and are buried beneath black earth, and I can’t run to Dad anymore.