The frog prince makes a discovery

brain-dead poet 

slept through his lines 

until the muse bestirred him! 

fire rushed hot, 

wind whispered her sweet song, 

as Earth danced beneath him, 

and the great crystal sea 

cast up her ninth wave. 

Once upon a time, there was a frog prince. He had met his princess, but had not been kissed. This was a matter of much consternation and soul searching on the part of the frog prince. He knew the story. He knew the ending. Yet somehow, things appeared to be going all wrong. He sometimes wondered if being a frog would prevent him from ever receiving the coveted kiss. Who in her right mind would kiss a frog anyway!

But the frog prince had found much comfort and happiness in his encounters with the princess in spite of his uncertainty and his longing to be transformed. He knew that she was a loyal friend, and that she cared about him deeply. He also new that he cared every bit as much for her. Apart from the nagging problem of the kiss, he was content spending his days with her at the water’s edge.

One day, when the princess was off on a journey, the frog prince lay sprawled on the rock by the pond sunning himself and contemplating his dilemma. How would he ever become a prince without the magic kiss? And would the kiss be worth it if she liked him less as a prince than as a frog? This seemed to be a very real possibility, and disturbed him greatly, since he treasured her companionship as much as he wished for the kiss. He had made a comment one day about the kiss, and the princess had laughed softly in the way only princesses can, and said, “You silly frog, you don’t need a kiss to be a prince.” He had felt at the time that she was diverting him from the subject, but as the days had passed, her words found a place in his heart and imagination. Perhaps it was true. Perhaps there was another way. He had certainly learned many things in the days since the princess had first appeared by the pond, and he had noticed that his froggy disposition had begun to change. He even noticed that bugs were less appealing than they had been before. Maybe the kiss was not the key after all. Maybe there was something else.

He rolled over onto his belly to look at his froggy reflection in the edge of the pond. And then he saw it; a shimmering sparkle of gold in his reflection on the murky water. A thin circle of heavy gold fit perfectly on the crown of his head. Suddenly he was aware of its weight against his skull. He was so taken with it that he did not at first realize that it was not the head of a frog that wore the crown, but rather the head of a man. As the realization of what he saw began to sink in, the prince was overwhelmed. He lay flat on the rock, weeping joyfully into the pond until it nearly overflowed its banks with salty tears.

The princess had given him a wonderful gift, though not the one everyone expected. She new the story as well as you and I do, but she also knew that the frog had always and only been a prince. She knew that his frogginess was merely an enchantment cast upon him by a witch in a dark, foul humor. She knew that the power of enchantments lies in the heart of the enchanted, and that enchantments are truly broken only by the power of a far greater magic that works also in the heart. She knew that a kiss would not teach this lesson to the prince, and so she had given him the gift of honesty and loyal friendship instead. And with this sacred gift, he had released the secret hidden in his own heart.