But the result was the same. In his
brain--perhaps by Chance, perhaps by God--lay the machinery which
enabled him to give it out to others--the power and ability to
transmit. It was a fairy-tale of the world, only the world had
forgotten it. He brought back its fairyland again.
And this fairyland, what and where was it? And how could this tale of
its recovery bring into his listeners' hearts such a sense of peace
and joy that they felt suddenly secure in the world and safe mid all
the confusion of their muddled lives? That there were tears in
Mother's eyes seems beyond question, because the moonlight, reflected
faintly from a wet cobble in the yard below, glistened like a tiny
silver lantern there. They betrayed the fact that something in her had
melted and flowed free. Yet there was no sadness in the fairy-tale to
cause it; they were tears of joy.
Surely it was that this tale of Starlight, Starlight Expresses and
Star Caves, told as simply as running water, revealed the entire
Universe--as One, and that in this mighty, splendid thing each of them
nested safe and comfortable. The world was really _thinking_, and all
lay fluttering in the grand, magnificent old Net of Stars. What people
think, they are. All can think Beauty. And sympathy--to feel with
everything--was the clue; for sympathy is love, and to love a star was
to love a neighbour.
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