Of Dragons That are Princesses

This is my 1,001st post. I have not written anything new for months. When you write for a living, and when you don't seem your private thoughts worth reading, you run out of words for blogging.

I may have borrowed these same words before, but I find they speak to me now, and of me:

How could we forget those ancient myths that stand at the beginning of all races, the myths about dragons that at the last moment are transformed into princesses?
Perhaps all the dragons in our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage.
Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love.
So you mustn't be frightened, if a sadness rises in front of you, larger than any you have ever seen; if an anxiety, like light and cloud-shadows, moves over your hands and over everything you do.
You must realize that something is happening to you, that life has not forgotten you, that it holds you in its hand and will not let you fall.

(From LETTERS TO A YOUNG POET by Rainer Maria Rilke)

As always, I do not attempt to interpret beauty. I will let these words envelop you, as they have done for me.

There is a voice inside my head whispering this. It is Vincent, from the soundtrack of "Beauty and the Beast: Of Love and Hope."