Songs of the Magical Castle (Part Two)

Yes, at 24 years of age, I am still a huge fan od disney(and yes, I am wearing an unabashed grin right now). Productions of disney had made my childhood magical and still brings on a wistful look on my face at the mention of pixiedust.

This post is a tribute to those amazing artists who made it possible for me to carry the magic from the movies and tuck them in a safe corner of my heart.


The flight to the castle has now come to a close, as you gently settle on the drawbridge that leads into the castle. You cross the moat, and you see what looks suspiciously like Mickey’s first steamboat, but you push on: the castle calls.

The massive arched entrance now stands before you streaming golden light, provoking a spattering of goosebumps on your arms that you ignore. You take a deep breath, close your eyes and press forward.

You open your eyes, but not to the castle walls you expected to see; for you are at the base of a hill, where the forest behind you ends. Around you, mills the crowd of every beast imaginable: panicky zebras,  dozing hippos, figety girraffes, every kind of apes that poke,punch and jostle, elephants, shuffling meerkats, even a bunch of grouchy hyenas observe from a distance. But what holds your attention is on a ledge near the hilltop. You see a humanoid shape lumbering to the edge (you do know old Rafiqi, dont you?). He pauses, and as the voices around you raise to a thunder: raises in his arms an infant. The yet to be Lion King. And in your heart, you hear the world resounding as Elton John booms “The Circle of Life”. You close your eyes.

Shift.

The world around you has changed. You find yourself in a forest. Massive trees put up a canopy of lush green that makes it almost impossible to tell dawn from dusk. The steady “neek-breek” of crickets and the warbling of a brook at your feet are the only sounds you hear. You push past the gnarled roots at your feet to follow the brook. A few stumbles and several mosquito bites later finds you standing at the edge of a lake. The open sky above finally tells you its nighttime. The lake water, reflecting the sickle moon above is perfectly still. You have a feeling that this place is a sanctuary. One that a young lion and his mate will soon visit ( though for some reason, smartass meercat and stinky wildboar also crosses your mind) . With the lyrics of “Can you feel the love tonight” on your lips, you turn, and are gone with the sigh of the wind.

Shift.

Agrabah. A jewel of a kingdom in the heart of burning sands. Tonight, as the heat of day gives way to chill of night, all is still except for the magic carpet soring the night skies. Can you hear the street rat of not so long ago profess his love to the princess? Offering to share his world of dreams with the words: ” I can show you the world… Shining, shimmering, splendid…”
But better not intrude in the privacy of the young couple. You close your eyes and…

Shift.

China. A perfectly kept garden. Strolling its perfectly paved walk, you come across maid by a pond. Listen to her heart’s complaint:
“Who is this girl I see, staring straight back at me?
Why is my reflection someone I don’t know?”
And I wonder if you wonder, that in the world that you inhabit, does everyone ask the same question of themselves? And maybe go along to ask: “When will my reflection show who I am?”

Shift.

Visions.
Swiftly flitting past.
A forest, an eagle soring above.
A wolf howling to the moon.
Afar:smoke rising. A sense of desolation.
A lithe woman rushes through the forest trails effortlessly.
Somwhere else, an army stumbles awkwardly forward and swears at the forest around them.
The woman reaches the edge of a cliff. Jumps.
As she hits the base of the waterfall, you sesne exhilaration.
But from the soldiers, you feel misery.
And you hear yourself humming:
“You can own the earth and still,
All you’ll own’s earth until…
You can paint with all the colors of the wind…”
The eagle in the sky gives one more lusty screech, then vanishes beyond sight.

Shift.

An abandoned child.
There’s a thunderstorm coming on and the pitiful creature’s wails go almost unheard except for a hulking form. Not human. Not in form. But those eyes…they have a mother’s warmth. As the beast’s eyes look into the child’s, they profess a promise:
“Come stop your crying
It’ll be allright
Just take my hand
Hold it tight
I’ll protect you
From all around you
I’ll be here, dont you cry…”

Shift.

Darkness…
A faint light afar.
You feel your journey is at an end. An what is it you will be carrying back with you from this wonderous adventure?
A song:
“I’ve finally seen it
Now i have to believe:
All those precious stories
All the world is made of faith
And trust
And pixie dust…”

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