My dearest,
it is true.
death is a disease, and there is cure for it.
death is also a new beginning.
“we’ll be together forever.”
You were the tornado – your sense of humore and care always amuse me. But yes, you did make me smile. You were Beautiful, merciful, powerful.
then what is the difference between good and “evil” ? evil is confused…
lost causes and causes you can always win ?
is it worth fighting to save the fading bud-flower, or the eternal apple tree?
…or both?
can we write letters thorugh time? you were that burnt tree at the bottom of the Canyon…i could feel your soul, you were there, hanging and absorbing like a mushroom after rain…
oh if we’re both humans, then we are sure on different planets. i can hear you – at night, when you try to put the moon to sleep. i look at it too. you are her son, and thus she will always have you in her craddle…
yes, it is worth fighting for the tiniest petal..for Beauty. it is in the core, and he won’t understnad. it’s in you, in me.
but You are not here anymore. i’ve almost lost the image of your face. however, your eyes will always track me, and the tears.
I feel your presence.
Baby, please don’t cry…your tears dig black holes in time…i can’t find you.
Time elapses. maybe not yet, but one day – at some little edge of time, on the top of a mountain…we shall meet.
i know you exist, you just haven’t found me yet. sometimes you come really close, and then you’re gone…
the garden with the little paths – it is so confusing. but i know, i believe, that you will find it…it’s that little rocky-path, leading to that shady corner with a single light ray shining on a lone rose with countless thorns….its red peatals cry and shed blood, becuase it is dyed with all the sorrow. its waiting.
when you whisper with the wind, there’s only a scent left in the air, carried by the stardust. you must be born in Shibabla, or in some other dying nebula…
you were born a thousand years ago, or you are yet to be born in a million…
you are that pigeon that died in the ice-house during the cold winter 10 years ago. or were you that cloud that looked like a dragon on the way to the mountains? oh, find the way. time, or this physical reality, will not stop you. you were those fading flowers that drank the heavy drops falling from a little girl’s eyes…
don’t give up.
- Bani
