a tale of light

A few minutes after dusk, Ashkar woke up with warm yellow eyes, his hands dampened with the sweat that he knew he'd dreamt had covered them. As he slowly lowered his unawoken feet to the waving floor, a soft giggle was let loose and he smiled as he heard the distant black seabirds chirping in delight. Ashkar turned his hand into a cup and filled it with the gleaming water of the wall behind the mirror. He picked out the small jumping horsefish he'd accidently caught, saluting him good night. Then, as the cold refreshing liquid slid down his throat, he looked upwards. He inhaled deeply, involuntarily, choking with the water that now occupied both his tummy and his lungs. Millions of glittering stars spread upon the sky. But then he saw something that made his lips and his eyelids and his hand and his feet quiver with anxiety: a star had began to fall. As it came towards him, faster and faster, but nevertheless small as the smallest dot, the walls of his watered sky-roofed castle shone with the purest of all whites, and the waves of his garden ocean stood still. Moments of undescribable peace came next, as Ashkar saw how all the stars had began to fall, to leave their usual places, to escape the realm of the certain and enter the realm of the mere perhaps.

When the first star touched the boiling sea, Ashkar was not there anymore.

He was up above.

It was a night with full moon.

escucho: Canon in D , Pachelbel / Dir. Herbert Von Karajan