I am a kind soul. And I love him.
He is somewhere near the lake, may be rowing, may be playing with the swans- I don’t know anything for sure. Even his name. Actually I can’t pronounce it. Whenever I want to see him, I just look up in the sky and call “Lead man, I need you to play your role” and he appears. Most of the times.
For other times he has asked me to pause. When he comes, sometimes he takes hours to say a word. And many a times whatever I say does not interest his rambling mind. But I don’t consider him demanding, he is not. He is the most gracious man I have ever seen. A child battling for his innocence. I love his cheekbones. Perfectly disorientated.
These days I am seeing him every day. This astonishes me. I am not very patient and I have no answer. He is playing his role majestically but when it comes to us, he is even more neat. He holds my hand but speak no story. There’s something always in his eyes which I can’t read. He recites a gentle poem for me but refuses to take me to his home. The swans don’t know me yet, he says.
I am tired. He is tired too. I love him and he loves me back, conservatively.
Why is this so discreet? There’s no philosophical discretion behind my knowledge of his mind. The poles are miles away, and every particle adjoining them is unsure of the direction. This is my short theory.
I have always welcomed stages of evolution. The protagonist of my story appreciates the alteration too. I think there lies the doubts and every possible bondage. I am exploring his center. Soon, it merges with mine.