The Story-II

Butterfly, a beautiful and delicate being, has a change hidden in her. You can sit at a distance and watch her, but it flies when you approach he. Whenever I tried to approach her, an instant thought tornado erodes my open mind like a hurricane sweeps the grasslands. All that is left is the memory of watching her, facing the sun and silently praying.

I loved the act of silently smiling within, content with what I see. Turn around and wave your hand to no one in the sky. Spread you hands and jump to the highest you can.

She didn’t notice me, nor did I ever try to make myself notice.

But, then one day it occurred to me, somewhere hidden in my consciousness, a little boy who talked to her. I dream of that boy. The only one, from whom the butterfly didn’t move away. He had those similar shining eyes, and small hands that he kept crossed while standing beside her, on the bridge.

She talked and the boy listened, she speaks and the boy looked at her eyes. The real satisfaction is seen in the eyes of the little fellow, like an angle he stands there, slowly blinking and with a very fulfilled smile on his face.

Days passed, and the season changed. It doesn’t take much to get addicted to something you believe has an attachment within. And thus, slowly and gradually, I found the space that boy required, in my mind, deep within the heart, and part of my soul; he had it all.

He is the one whom the butterfly wasn’t afraid, or rather I should say he was the one not afraid of the storm waiting there, beyond the almighty silence.

The one, who called him self the dreamer, said he was never alone. When someone asked him about how is that he lives; with all those characters in his mind, with all those mixed temptations, he said he has finally found the one thing in his life. Yes, the thing you can live your life for.

Amen.

Your Socius.