A bitter-sweet symphony

And after years of friendly kind and re-assuring comfort, the tale of such magic and overwhelming joy came to a close. It was finished and "all was well". To those upon whom grace has not bestowed an understanding of a higher magnitude - I just recently finished reading the last book in the Harry Potter series: "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows". A mingle of emotions in a calm and dumbledoorelike surface is the best way to explain it. I enjoyed the read, drinking almost each word with trepedation. Only when the story had come to a halt at present time, did I realise that I was 6 pages from the end of a story like no other. And critics may have a field-day at its expence. I care not. For no one may know what exactly the plot, characters and message have given to me. It is abruptly the equivalent of an entire world, which is quite a lot obviously. I hesitated for a moment or two before continueing with the remaining pages, those which would reveal a thought-out glimpse of the future. In the end it felt right to finish what I had started this day and not prolong the inevitable. Only in this case, a positive one. I am glad to have encountered such luck to have been able to enjoy the story as it drew to its own unavoidable end. But cannot pretend that in my heart I felt a flicker of sadness that I would no longer be able to take part in the great adventure I set out on several years previous. I felt my heart, truly felt it, throbbing hard against the surface of the black covers. It is a most wonderful and bedazzling feeling to be able to feel particular parts of one's body. Especially the heart. For no matter what some disbelievers might think, the organ is more than a physical element which keeps a person alive. I believe it to feel things of a much higher rank than merely to do with life and death. To those who believe in it, I see something of a golden thread between the heart and soul. And I have a strange sensation that mine is currently issueing the faintest tune of a phoenix' song.