Lessons from the Zahir- I

 

The mist sprirals as she walks. She feels the damp freshness of it as she drops her jacket to the mossy ground and looks at the path ahead. Still, as the life in her. Dark, as her empty soul. 
She walks on silently, her eyes passing over every stone and every leaf. This was where she had dreamt while she walked. Of love and laughter, of wanting and being wanted, of little mittens and cosy fires. This was where she had laughed without a care, and felt the joy of hearing His baritone. This was where she had wanted to be, warped in those precious moments forever, her past dissolved in the mist, her future out of her hands, her very being for a purpose higher and nobler than she could be in seven lifetimes. 
She runs her hands through her hair and looks down.. brown, blue..the same attire as she had worn when she called to the birds to sing to them. She wonders if she is as unrecognisable as it was desired of her to be, she almost wishes it were so. But stops herself. Wishes are for the sane, the sane who believe that butterflies are not winged faeries.
Twilight turns into darkened hue. As it had then. She had welcomed the darkness and its gentle embrace, welcomed it so heartily that He had laughed out aloud at her childishness. That was what she was when with Him- a child. His child. Who needed nothing more than to snuggle in His lap for ever more. Who needed nothing more than to surrender. 
She starts running at the thought..of what she should have been, and what she is. She had disapointed Him heavily, a low moan escaped her lips as she runs. 
Runs..
    but why give it all up?
                          ..runs..
                                 why distance from her elixir of survival?
                                                                          ..runs..
                                                                                  why want to be?
…runs…
            because…
                      she gasped, running.. 
                                                 madness is contagious. 
                                                                               Silence. 
Her desperate footsteps were heard no more. 
A scream replaced it. As she floated down the ravine, her last words reached the trees under which she had loved and lost… 
 
  
 The mist sprirals as she walks. She feels the damp freshness of it as she drops her jacket to the mossy ground and looks at the path ahead. Still, as the life in her. Dark, as the space within. 
She walks on silently, her eyes passing over every stone and every leaf. This was where she had dreamt while she walked. Of love and laughter, of wanting and being wanted, of little mittens and cosy fires. This was where she had laughed without a care, and felt the joy of hearing her Soul’s baritone. This was where she had wanted to be, warped in those precious moments forever, her past dissolved in the mist, her future out of her hands, her very being for a purpose higher and nobler than she could be in seven lifetimes. 
She runs her hands through her hair and looks down.. brown, blue..the same attire as she had worn when she called to the birds to sing to them. She wonders if she is as unrecognisable as it was desired of her to be, she almost wishes it were so. But stops herself. Wishes are for the sane, the sane who believe that butterflies are not winged faeries.
Twilight turns into darkened hue. As it had then. She had welcomed the darkness and its gentle embrace, welcomed it so heartily that her Soul had laughed out aloud at her childishness. That was what she was when with her Soul- a child.  His child. Who needed nothing more than to snuggle in His lap for ever more. Who needed nothing more than to surrender. 
She starts running at the thought..of what she should have been, and what she is. She had disapointed Him heavily, a low moan escapes her lips as she runs.. 
Runs..
    But why give it all up?
                                         ..runs..
                                                         Why distance from her elixir of survival?
                                           ..runs..
                                                           Why want to be?
                                           …runs…
                                                              because…
                                      she gasps, running.. 
                                                
                                       Madness is irreparable
                                         Madness is contagious
                                            Madness is my shadow. 
 
                                                                               Silence. 
                                                                          Her footsteps are heard no more. 
                                                    A scream replaces it.
                        
                                                   The trees under which she loved, lived, lost and lingered hear her last word
…………………………………….Yours…………………………………………………….
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