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All is true to me that I believe in, none is that I deny.
It is just a story. Believe it, and it becomes the truth ?
deny and refuse it, and it is nothing more than beautiful lies.
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Raindrops on my pillow. Or were they tears?
The wind blew in through the open window, and I shivered. It was autumn, it was cold. Not that I did not like it ? I was a child of the elements: lover of fire, daughter of water, admirer of air, of wind. I felt least attracted to earth, feeling her rather my prison than my mother ? but it was alright. Everyone needs limits to pass.
I lay on the floor of my room in the attic. I had been gazing up in the sky, at the rushing clouds, through the window in the roof. I was wishing I could fly. Suddenly an old thought came into my mind.
What is rain? Though it personally was a cause of joy to me, I had liked to think of it as the tears of God. How beautiful an idea it was! The sorrow of a higher being relieving the thirsty land, reviving plant, beast and man. I felt a little sorry for not believing in Him. That is the way we lose our most noble and beautiful ideas.
Then again the sky occupied my whole attention. Dark racing clouds above me, torn and tossed by the wind. A storm was gathering.
I loved them all, especially thunderstorms. On hot summer afternoons, after long hours of pressure growing and collecting upon your chest, when the heavens are still clear and the sun shines like he wanted to make up for all the winter darkness just today, then you hear the first sounds of thunder from somewhere in the hills, and you are relieved: finally, it has come.
In a few minutes the skies are as black as the deepest pits of Hell, and the roar of thunder and the flashes of lightning make you truly believe it. Then comes the end of the world, you would expect, and so it would seem ? the clouds crack and burst open, releasing their burden on the land. But instead of the rain of fire and brimstone, it is nothing more than a heavy shower of big, fat raindrops.
It is not yet half an hour later and it has already passed, the sun is shining again as he was before, the skies are just as blue, but all around is wet, vapours rise from the earth, and in the air there is the sweet scent of drenched grass. After the Hell of the storm it feels like Heaven.
How I loved them all! The raging elements, the swift changes, the feeling of being just a tiny speck in the whole enormous Universe, yet being able to see this through ? I felt most human when subjected to the forces of Nature.
I did not get up to close the window. Outside it was raining violently, but into this little room of mine only a few feeble drops fell. I shivered again. I knew it was no summer thunderstorm, it was autumn rain, and was going to last till night fell. So it did.
Hours later, when the rain was over, when the day was over, I was till lying there, watching the twinkling stars. The sky was clear and the wind had ceased. There was no moon and I felt glad for it ? I found starlight soothing and more friendly. Coldness had crept into my room through the open window, and into my heart through the light of the stars ? through the memories they had brought with them.
I thought of him, whom I had loved, whom I had lost, and of nights when those heavenly gems had been still shining on our happiness. I thought of those bright hot summer days we had spent together, of the long nights under the light of the moon, of the songs he used to sing, of the deep sea of his eyes so blue, of the gold of his hair, of the warm strength of his arms embracing me. We never realise the real value of anything before we lose it.
But he had been the gift of summer, and now leaves were falling. I had known from the beginning that I was going to lose him ? only I would not have thought that it would come so soon. Not that I could have helped it anyway, but maybe... maybe I would have done things in a different way. Well, none of these speculations mattered now. I had to face the fact that I was on my own again and found it surprisingly easy to accept. Still the wound was hurting and only time had the power to heal it. Oh ? I had time.
There was nothing more I could have been thinking about since I did not really feel like thinking. This was a subject better left alone and there was nothing else of any importance to me now. So I gladly let the ink blue sky and the sparkling stars occupy my mind, and deprived of disturbing thought, I totally dedicated myself to the pleasure of the beauty of the night. The world around me had sunk out of existence, there was nothing else but the heavens above me.
There were teardrops on my pillow. Or was it the rain?
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