Buried somewhere in the recesses, in the dark corners of history past they lay, treasures shrouded in the heavy folds of dark velvet, entwined in scents we both fear and hope for. We savor the edges of the music surrounding them but cannot hold the tune, cannot unwind the wrappings…

The mysteries of the paths we walked before now, the moments of a crossing with another soul, the uncertainty of a parting. Why, always asking why, always wanting the certainty of truth, the view through other eyes, the story as told to us not by us. The deep unknown unfolding to bring us to who we are, to rest at the edges of our souls. Always to taste the myriad mysteries that shape us but never to hold the answer…

We find life in the struggle of ambiguity, in the greys, in the fledgling moments before the clear light of day.

_________

As for the English translation of the above esoteric rant? A random memory of an ex-girlfriend, a bad breakup, and her apology a year later. The apology was bittersweet, though. It offered an acceptance of her actions and confirmation of mine but didn’t reveal the the background behind why she had acted the way she did, only the regret.

The memory is a long time gone but all of us are built in part on stories similar. The acts of another person might define our lives and yet our knowledge of the logic and history behind the actions may never be complete. Unless another is offered to us and we choose to listen, we see the world only through our own perspective.