Saturday 26 August 2017

THE LOVE OF THE CLOUDS




You are like a prisoner who has voluntarily lost the connection with the outside world. You are like a prisoner who is so afraid of me that you locked yourself in a high tower whose roof reaches the sky. In the tower for greater security, you only communicate with certain people of your family, ethnicity, and religion. You rarely go out of this circle of people because you are afraid you will meet me, and when you meet me, it will be very difficult for you to justify the building of this high tower that you have turned into your own prison. So you only communicate with other prisoners. They are safe for you because generations built these connections. There are no unexpected excitements; there you will never meet me. And you are not brave enough to get out of your prison and to accept that your heart does not like it.

I am not of your own ethnicity nor do I belong to your official religion. I believe in the majesty of God, but he has no specific name. It is all visible and invisible, all the cosmic energy.

In your prison tower is missing the "Mail with the outside world" service, so it is safer for you because you are afraid of my letters.

When I met you, you had already built your tower and you really looked like an unhappy prisoner. And I decided to help you to free yourself by leaving the place that connected us. I left because I knew that if you suffered for me, it would force you to do something, to change yourself or your conservative way of life.

Then you closed yourself in your tower even more unhappy and you did not know how to stop the impulses of your heart that insisted on meeting me. But you did nothing for your heart. You continued your boring life doing the same things you have done for years and the other prisoners in your tower approved everything. You were making up excuses that your heart is not important, but it was important for you that other prisoners approved your behavior. Your heart did not agree with this policy.

Then I wrote to you my first letter. I decided to be brave and to help you because I saw how much you were afraid of me. You were afraid the other prisoners of your tower could find out that your heart was not indifferent to me.
In my first letter, I confessed   the secret of my heart. I wrote to you that you were special to me for a reason known only to my silly heart. I wrote to you that if I had to choose consciously, then I would choose a free man for my beloved, not a prisoner, because that love is doomed to suffer from the beginning. I wrote to you, but then I regretted that I confessed the secret of my heart. On my first confession, you responded with a long and confusing silence.

You did not answer to my first letter. Instead, your heart was so excited by my brave farewell confessions that, even to your surprise, the foundations of your tower have begun to shake. You did not answer to my first letter, but you did not stop thinking about me, and every night when the other prisoners were asleep, you went out of the tower and watched the sky  hoping to see my reflection there, up in the sky.

Then I wrote to you other letters. You were not used to such free confessions, and you did not know what to do. Just in case, you continued to pretend that nothing unusual happened with your heart. But it protested and suffered about me.

 When no one else was watching you, you went out of your prison, and there you were learning how to write your answers to me. You were writing your answers in the sky. The clouds were your alphabet and you were arranging the clouds like letters in a line that formed a sentence, a message to me. Gradually, you were getting better and better in the art of sending to me your secret messages through the language of the clouds in the sky. At your command they were forming beautiful messages that sounded like heavenly music. The clouds did not mind serving you as
mediators in the secret game of your heart. When it was excited, everybody on the planet Earth could see in the sky written kind   words and the longings of the heart as they rode on the blue sky to reach me quickly. When you were sad and desperate that you would never see me again because your prison was so tall and inaccessible, then the clouds took your sorrow and pain and sent them as a rain on the ground to refresh the human hearts and to give them hope.


The building materials with which your prison was made were of exceptional quality and strength. That meant you could not break this prison only with the help of the clouds. When your anger from your prison became so painful and powerful, it was creating angry storms in the sky, causing the clouds to suffer from the lightning and the heavy storm that poured on the ground.
This was the anger of your heart that did not approve your prison. But you built it slowly and gradually, year after year, falling in a trap of your own ideas and prejudices that aimed to present you well to the public. The small community of your prison liked the idea that you trapped yourself because they liked watching you suffer as a prisoner, so they controlled you perfectly. In the interest of the historical truth, it has to be said that some of the building materials of this prison you have inherited from your parents, and they themselves have received them as an inheritance from their own. So the weight of the past, of the traditions you have not chosen, of the family environment, and of the small conservative expectations of the other prisoners, made you to feel only things that belonged to your prison. Because you wanted the other little prisoners to like you. That is how you voluntarily chose the suffering. So gradually, year after year, you have become a building material, a stone, a part of your own prison.

When you met me, you instinctively followed your heart, which instantly recognized me with the universal language of love. And initially, you followed its excitement. But every time you went back to your prison, you remembered that I was not from your tribe, religion, and tradition. You suffered because your heart did not approve these prejudices. But the building materials of your prison were stronger than you.

I was standing on the free side of your tower, and I did not understand what was my fault that you so cautiously and sadly avoided me.

Gradually, I learned to
read your messages through the various moods and configurations of the clouds. Sometimes they were inviting me to dance outside a passionate tango only under the accompaniment of the clouds. Gradually, you became extremely good at sending secret messages to me. And one day you were so brave that you wrote in the sky "I love you!".

 I sent you a letter in which I accused you of playing with my heart, because it was so easy to say something so terribly scary when you were well surrounded in prison and you were not looking straight at me in my eyes. I accused you of a hundred and one sins, like being a coward who loves his chains more than freedom. You did not understand what I was accusing you of and you thought I was dangerous with my vague idea of ​​personal freedom.

And the clouds, these translators of our feelings, were confusingly changing the weather forecast in the sky - from a quiet summer day in which our hearts were jubilant to a grim storm echoing in our little hearts.

I was standing
alone under the wall of your prison, and you were still inside.  One day I saw how the clouds wrote in the sky "Save me!".

Maybe your liberation is a matter of time, a matter of change.

  Change as long as the silent love of the clouds.


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