La Musique

Saturday, September 27, 2008

Once there was a petal and a rock living under the glory of Mr Sun. Everyday the Mr Sun shone down graciously on the earth, and under his gaze, the petal grew softer, more velvet, the way only God can create it to grow.

When night came, the petal saw the magnificient moon, gleaming in the darkness. It wasn't as bright or glorious as Mr Sun, but its tender glow cast alluring shadows on the petal. And so, the petal fell in love with the moon. Shy, the petal whispered to the moon "You are a most lovely thing of nature. Could you come down here so I could play with you?"

The moon was silent. It could not? Maybe it didn't want to.

The petal was devastated. Not knowing how to win the fancy of the moon, the petal asked the rock what it should do. The rock was scathing in its reply. Don't bother, it said, you're wasting your time. Foolish petal.

Mr Sun told the petal to give up too. Bask in my sunlight, it pleaded, forget the moon. It's light cannot and will not sustain you for long. Yet the petal was stubborn, and too fixated on perhaps, what it wanted. It began to open itself only at night, and refused to even peek at Mr Sun when he came up. The rock was completely ignored.

Every night as the moon came up, the petal opened hopefully. Mr Moon! Won't you look at me! I've been waiting here for so long! Spare a little time for me? Please, I beg you. Look at me! The initial hopeful desires, withered to mechanical pleadings, fuelled only by the determination of the petal. The rock laughed openly and unkindly, having no care or concern for the petal. This merely spurred the petal on.

Even as the petal repeated her pattern along with the coming of day and night, the once blushing pink faded and turned into a dusty yellow, uneven and splotchy. Mr Sun wept at the petal's plight, but there was nothing it could do to persuade the petal otherwise. The softness of the petal hardened into a fragile brittleness. And still, the moon was silent.

When the rain came, washing and cleansing the earth, its harsh fall caused the petal to crumble and break off. On the ground beside the rock, reduced to a pathetic heap of unfulfilled desires and hopes, the petal asked the rock "Am I silly? Am I not pretty enough, or resolved, that the moon did not love me?"

The rock pitied the petal. "Don't wish for what you weren't created for." The petal finally understood. It sighed, and the sweet scent of its surrender filled the air for a short, instantaneous, while.

7:56 AM