thousand moments

You were sitting below a tree. To be exact, you were sitting below this old oak, near the river. The setting sun painted orange stripes in your hair. The scent of the flourishing glade flew on the wings of evening winds. It was so peaceful, leaning your back against the trunk. You really enjoyed that - being away from the so-called "World" and so-called "Life", in your own precious harmony. The sight of the clouds on the horizon amused you. You chose one of them, that little swirly-edged puppy-shaped. You could almost hear it barking at the tiny frisking kitten-clouds. And as you looked it, watching carefully, it slowly faded away into the deep blue of the sky.

You were playing with a butterfly when I first saw you. It flew on your hand, fluttering its golden wings. I remember imagining you, as you rise up off the ground, dancing with your friend. A silly thought, maybe. I found it nice back then. And it seemed somewhat possible, too. You turned towards me. I turned my head away.

It was sunday, as I recall. You were asleep below your beloved oak, a little crown of dandelion lying on your head. The sun was searing. The shadow of the old tree tempted me - I sat down on the other side of the teak. I didn't want to disturb your loneliness. I just wanted to find my own. I looked at the sparrows hopping on a branch.

Another sunday, I was sleeping below the oak. I remember being awaken by a harsh thunder. I heard fat raindrops falling. As I opened my eyes, I saw you smiling at me. You were kneeling beside me, your coat spred out over me. The wind blew your hair in your face. I smiled back at you.

You were sitting below the tree. And I was there, too. It was so peaceful, my back leaning against the trunk. And yours leaning against my chest. A dickey-bird practiced flying just above us. At first, he flapped obsessively with his tiny wings. Then, he rose from the nest, just a few inches. He couldn't keep up the pace for long - he plopped back onto a branch. Panted a bit, then started all over. He was wonderful. Imperfect, as we all are. We called him Jason, as I recall.

Once, I was staring at the river. You fondled my forehead. Leaves floated on the back of the waves. You gazed at my eyes, and I gazed at yours. Our face reflected infinitely in each others eyes. The water below seemed somehow still.
I loved that about you. You could stop all the rivers.

...

One day, you came no more.

One day, the little dickey-bird grew, and flew away. I was staring into the sun for hours chasing its silhouette.

Today, I embrace the old oak, as I once embraced you.

It's night. Clouds cover heaven as I look up.
My glance scour the distance.
Overlapping shadows on waving water.
Wolf howling at the sky.
The Moon is hiding above.