Awakening

Sometimes the runner stumbles. Life is a quest for knowledge and a search for love. And no one had ever loved more than she did. Above the stretches of the sky, bulging with unheard prayers and unanswered wishes, glowing in their individual spheres of glory, is our future. Everything depends on which of those stars is on your side, playing your game.

We all sing our songs, wanting to sing a better song which sounds empty, hollow and tuneless in our lives. She was the music and he was the words, but all this starts where word end and continues where words leave off.

It was more than between them, they have made the fundamental connection. We cannot live without permanent trust in something indestructible within ourselves. That was love, a core of existence. We seek self identity, the need to assure ourselves that we still exist and are someone. He was the reassurance, her life. There was a look in his eyes, something so secret yet so openly revealed. There was a message between them which none could decipher. There was a renewed faith in hope and the feelings that they thought they’d never find.

They loved ceaselessly, breathing words like Arabian perfumes, never dispelling the dream. And then, in the small hours, when it is neither today nor tomorrow she saw that her whole consciousness had been a dream, and no one’s dream but her own, a dream she must now sustain of her own efforts. And then, even she disappears and only the dream remains with him in it. He was the impenetrable darkness for the night in which she had to describe herself. In daylight other people describe you. He was the one who developed her wits, stretched her imagination, sharpened fantasy, hammered home the memory and altered the whole sense of values.

The power of emotion between them led them into the realm beyond words, they glanced into the mirror and what they saw was not themselves; for a moment they held the inaccessible. And the soul cries out for love, like a child.

She had found a feeling that was not there before, and was not just on the surface of things but penetrated all the way through; and she longed to be with him, breathing the same air, sharing the same thoughts, in his arms; finally contented – like on resting after the trials of searching are ended. When she was with him they made fire. It was living moments, seconds which tick past, constant and never ending, minutes which are being lived and do not fade, but stay as they are experienced in the same feeling and brightness. Moments that last forever and never die.

She never saw the petals fading at her feet, saw black, saw white but never saw grey. The whispering stopped her hearing, the caller gave her up. But with him she was never alone, never powerless or without hope. They loved in isolation and the message wasn’t ‘come here’, but ‘I am here’. Love gently swept through their lives washing their weary hearts, soothing the burning flame of passion, quenching the thirst o desire. They had captured perfection in its glorious, short-lived bloom. And we can only wonder where they’ll be when the flame dies.