Description
Before embarking on the battle to coax longing with a reed stalk, he tried to lure it with voice and songs, but he failed repeatedly, finding no solace for his anguish but tears. He lay on his back repeatedly after each failure, gazing at the carefree sky with tear-reddened eyes, unaware that he had lingered in its vastness longer than he should, until the morning sun blazed and stung him with its heat. Then he realized that his absence wasn’t limited to the night alone, but had also stolen a part of yesterday’s day. He often wondered about the secret of this profound slumber, for no one had told him that the weight of worry could plunge him into such a slumber. Nor was he surprised by the tears that streamed from his eyes, for he only remembered himself weeping: weeping when others belittled him, weeping when they ignored him, weeping even for the bare chicks in the birds’ nests. But what grieves him most is the cruel indifference he receives from his two eternal loves: the sky and its lower, barren counterpart, the desert.
He vowed to himself to be patient and endure everything, but he always failed when faced with his desert and his sky. So, every morning, he would wash his eyes with the purest and truest tears, for he was a son of the desert and his eternal beloved, the sky.
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