A short tale....and its ideal soundrack Two friends were walking along a garden, to enjoy the warmth of the late spring, to smell until theyd get stunned the scent of flowers, and watch their beauty. Turning a corner they discovered a narrow, half hidden path, and they decided to walk though it. It lead to a dismissed small house, on which walls there was a rosebush, where two beautifull, redblood roses where standing under the sunrays. The first one decided to go home to pick his scissors, because he wanted to put the rose in a vase, and spend his days looking at it, as he felt as there wouldnt have anything most beautiful to watch all over the world. The second friend told him that hed have gone everyday there, to watch this beauty without tearing it apart from its place, from her environment and its roots. His friend though he was stupid: someone else could have come and gather it, leaving him with nothing, while he would have had it only for him. So the day after he went and cut the rose, to bring it at his home, while his friend just set at the shadow of a tree, to look at it while he was listening to the wind wispering among the leaves, and enjoing the warm air that brough the roses perfum to him. After a couple of days, the rose in the vase started to wither, and his friend though that he had been selfish and stupid; in fact just few more days after, the rose was dead, and a stench of rotten took the place of its scent...... So he stood with his regrets, and thought that his friend was right; he didnt wanted his rose just for him, but let her live, staying beside it, enjoying its beauty, and its perfume, that became every day more intense and paradisiac. At the beginning of the autumn the rose started to bow its head, getting a melancholic, decaying beauty, under the sky, where the birds of passage painted geometric promises of a new, far away summer. The first petals became to fall on the ground, and the boy was sadly thinking how much he would have missed the beauty and the scent he enjoyed during that summer. The new day brough a stormy wind, and the boy went to the garden thinking that this would have been the last time he could maybe see the rose before the wind blew it away. He just arrived when the last petals were falling down... when something almost magical happened: the roses petals, shattered by the wind went back on the floor composing a phrase for him: the memory of my beauty and my scent might warm up your heart in winter......untill I will blossom again for you the next spring. You havent been selfish, you didnt kill me, and I will wait for you every year. And so it happened, for years and years, until he had to use a stick to reach the bush, that had grew wilder, but he always recognized his special rose. He wrote that he wanted to be buried in that garden, to rest beneath that flower that he loved through his life. And now...in autumn, when the petals fall, they compose the shape of two embraced lovers, above the grave of this man. Lory Fayer 8.10.14 https://youtube/watch?v=M_OHqPPXFUU
Posted on: Sun, 12 Oct 2014 07:50:58 +0000
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