Tell me cloud, why do you shade our love? Why do all the rivers and seas feed you of themselves, when you shade their beauty and hide their floor? And why do you throw yourself into the wind when it calls for you? As all it wants is to disturb your sleep and lay waste upon your home. Why do you then rain upon the lands? What shall you receive of them? You have no need of grassy fields, no need even of the sweetest fruit you replenish. Yet you nourish the dreams of others and allow their thirsty hearts to feast upon the vein you hold most pure. Once you were only the warm breath of a stream, then you became the strength of a thousand and you were called a cloud, heavy enough that not even the strongest wind could move you. And upon your lonely nights you built a home where you lay peaceful. There you listened to the whistles of the wind and the passing melodies of enchanting birds, which soothed your soul and ignited the fires of your spirit. Until upon a stormy night when you stung the sky with your fury and offered a sacrifice to the farthest call – you gave of yourself all until the last drop of blood was taken from you. Now you are not even a breath, but a distant memory remembered only as the night when the hunger dined with the light. What did you gain from this my friend?
I had gained nothing my friend, as a gain of a wound is a loss to the body or the gain of distance is to a drifting star, the loss of a guiding light. I can gain nothing unless everything gains, as I can lose nothing, unless everything loses. What was gained was a step closer to ourselves, a call in the silence from the silences of our heart, a warming breeze awakening life’s procession to the dream which never ends. You had asked of me why I shade your love. Does not your love need a shade when it’s brightness blinds you to the love of another’s? Do not even your shadows ask for the same love you yearn for?
Listen my friend, listen hard and you shall hear the chorus of life, the dream from within our dreams. Remember one lives not to exist as a memory but to awaken the memory within – the memory that soothes the exhausted traveller by feeding his pain – the memory which exists in every song, in every word, in every action. I tell you now, if you are to know pain, know it not as an enemy but a guide, as when one stumbles upon a stone they but warn those who follow along the same road. And just as it is pain which leads us to the calling wound, so it is pain which directs us to the bleeding of life’s body – the running blood which yearns for a clot and that clot which cries for healing.
And know this my friend, those you find most reason to hate are the ones with the most reason to know your love. I ask you, would a wound upon your own body heal if ignored? Would a tree bear sweet fruit if planted upon the desert of you heart? Only the cries of abandonment shall grow loud upon the unattended wound and only the hunger of the soul shall burn life’s beauty when your heart no longer offers sweet fruit to bear but only limbs of a dying tree for nourishment. For life as we know it can dream only of the mountains of its own beauty, for all has not yet been found. What defines you is your role, yet it holds no boundaries. What drives you is you love, yet you know not of its destination. Not until our eyes see as one, not until our dreams dance upon the shores of life’s heightened silence.