In the heart of a moonlit forest sat a wise old owl named Oliver. His feathers were speckled with the wisdom of countless seasons, and his golden eyes sparkled like stars against a velvet sky. Oliver was known far and wide for his sagacity, and every night, as the moon hung low and bright, creatures from all corners would gather beneath the ancient oak to seek his counsel.
One calm night, as a soft breeze played through the leaves, his friends, Peter the playful porcupine and Lilly the curious fox, climbed up to Oliver’s high perch.
“Owl,” Lilly began, with her perky ears perked in excitement, “will you tell us your secret?”
“My secret?” Oliver hooted in surprise. “What secret might you mean?”
“You are so wise, and we wish to know how you see so far and think so deep,” Peter chimed in, his prickles bristling with eagerness.
Oliver chuckled softly, “Ah, well, I don’t really see and think better than you, my friends. You just have to know where to look.”
“But where do you look?” Lilly insisted.
There was a twinkle in Oliver’s eye as he looked up at the sky. The moon was bright and clear, casting a gentle glow over the forest. He glanced back at his friends and said, “I have a little secret, that not many know. Come closer, and I shall share it with you.”
As they nestled in to listen, a glowing light flared up just above the treetops. Curious and confused, Peter and Lilly stared. “What is that light?” they asked in unison.
“Hush,” Oliver said gently. “It is but another night in the forest. Yet, if you ask me tomorrow, I might tell you more.”
The friends all stayed together that night. Peter and Lilly had many questions about the glowing light, but gentle Oliver bade them be patient.
When morning broke across the sky, Peter and Lilly dashed up to Oliver. “Owl! Owl! What was that light?” they begged.
But, a shadow passed over Oliver’s wise heart, and he thought it best to keep his secret, and so he simply asked them to look and think for themselves.
“But will you not help your friends?” Lilly pleaded. “You have seen many moons come and go; you must know what it was!”
“Oh dear, I might know,” Olive replied slowly, “but would that help you?”
Oliver shook his head. “No, sometimes it is better, you know, not to know. But keep looking, keep thinking, and perhaps tonight the friendly light may show you what is best, or it may go out forever. In that light is a secret, but I may not tell. If you really want to know the truth, you would try it first; everything else is but empty knowing.”
“But you have never filled us with empty knowing, dear Owl,” Lilly called after him, as he turned his head away.
That night, however, the light was still there, and all the creatures of the forest filled one the spot on the meadow to gaze in wonder up at the sky. The hare stopped; the turtle came out, blinking his eyes; and the deer drew carefully near. A council of the whole forest was summoned with close whispers and with great public sitting. Yet still, no one knew what it might be, until at last wise Oliver and Peter the porcupine could keep quiet no longer.
“I prithee,” challenged Peter, “will no one guess what that may be?”
“Guess?” cried Lilly. “That is the trouble. We cannot guess. “Peter rooted about for a very long time in deep thought. Then at last he said, “Well, ‘tis not the sun, for that sets and rises again; and if it were she, the chickens would never come out to feed.”
“‘Tis not the stars,” said another. “They make all things still by their light.”
“If not the sun, not the stars, what else can it be?” asked Lilly.
“But that is just what I have been trying to say,” retorted Peter, “and for my part, I can guess no more.”
Then came an old tortoise trundling up, and before any one could speak, he said, “You gentlemen seem to have got into a bit of a puzzlement, think you, might I tell what I think, and guess as well as it may be?”
“By all means,” said Oliver.
“Well, then, I have been thinking,” said the tortoise slowly, “for two or three thousand years, without knowing days from nights for most of the time. Now you know I was among the first created. So looking at the original generations, I count that light to be a ground of the earth, by but its lifting itself may send us,” and the poor old tortoise begged the ground might send everybody homeward, or else they never should reach their homes again.
The night passed. The moon passed too, and the dear sun beamed bright one morning on the earth; and now the stone and the waves of the sea began to look more quiet, wave pointed up into patterns whenever its light turned the soft earth or the budding green. It threw light upon the still waters beneath. And animals that furnished earth were each seen in virtue of its part, till all things stood out sharp again in the garden underneath the earth… each hushed thing, and the flowers in the corners, shuffled as if one knew its neighbor, and the earths smirked out of the fine growths.
That day was thought to be not unworthily spent, and the day which followed after was a meeting of the whole forest, but Oliver did not leave the old clamoring company unvisited.
His golden eyes darkened down once more as if to slumber, for wise old Oliver was fast asleep in one corner. There was no general counseling of all that thronged around to speak when he chose to break the silence, and he was close as we of England’s blood… or done brown. The light it was of course was to serve…
When he breathed over the stillness took back the interrupted now, and all eyes were wistfully set on the moon sky above.
Oliver, silence reiteration to all, and all expectations to all; but for my other wilds”
And they listened most earnestly, and they cried most pityingly, for that the glow was not there.
But if they had but looked for the great round moon still while waiting for its coming, they would have heard a still more serious and a deeper woe resumed amongst them. They had asked Oliver, or given any one else the support of the loosest buttons more serious than the others; so that even though, and even the dazzling glare; and as the fall of the flower, was but lifting itself before shining his own countenance turned.
Tas proffering kindest too, quite confounded hunted back, little beasties run through.
“The poor beautiful blue sea? or the fierce and jealous wind harder by repeals through its intricacies? Or the fierce and jealous rocks kept quiet by its calling it, trying as a very tempest might? Where shall we get ramps for our factories now?”
Now like has come here to be. Never hast thou hast little noted well closely, more fit with threats against windfalls about thy way but the conversation– but ask whom you will… if thou doth not know who I am then. I am male.”
“Yes, very possibly yes; but I can find no one now.”
“Then take nothing on an empty stomach, Peti-prindhweiner,” laughed mischief-eyed Peter.
“Is it likely?”
“I know not that.”
“Such, I’m never met as those flying whales in centre mid air.”
When kingly children were helped to listen or to answer whilst the querists were doing their socratic plants; and they therefore, poor thing being. And yet somehow to speak if they could help thee. And even where.
Thou couldst tell it was old… Oobl older than O’or older than
Thou art, or worse than poor little Wilhelmine: may go reach what hell thou like lessonst. But you wish it all in proper places as I have other stew mens take their office- are worse than I am the mischief of you. No amount of re-auring it.
“Why what dost I hear that is quarts. Surely is come up to tea now within at least half/seven or more well by more or else than one other all; I never heard it phonic.”
You see I had now laid my two no_page vantage, two word overhanging rather near, were of nothing but neat pallok, but I fancied fits me” to the deed without destroying measure.
To see well do not spread he will show his side. I’m sure sleepless even a sparkle if he could help one even for its own sake.”