MONOLOGUE OF THE MOON
There may be a reason for everything. Attached to jackfruit seedlings, mango shrubs, cashew fall, mountain winds and sky color: things that are not grandiose, impermanent but beautiful. Give them meaning. We do not want them dead.
Perhaps words will not be able to explain life as a whole. That language can not be fully represented is just a sentence, every moment, silent, moving, or always waiting. Change events after event, silent and do not want to go just like that.
Perhaps until now not yet unthinkable, any hide a desire will separate the wholesome. That reason, conscience, virtue, and feeling ever worked. With all due respect will never be regretted, although space and time seemed to be in vain.
Maybe the longing never dies. Longing for many times, not left to die. Every time a great longing is buried, it is called again, rubbed again, and changed, changing times. Maybe it does not need to have a real face. There are touching, surprising and fascinating there.
Maybe life will die many times in intuition. That there is always a thrill in the memories. There is always a thrill in the story of a struggle that is not up to, but worth it. A story that is hidden and impossible to tell, because he lost. Wasted, vanity in the winner, the champions.
Probably, I do not expect to be worthy of forgiveness. Maybe I just want to say to myself, someone can show that gratitude and patients can come in a quiet listening. Sweet little song to life. That there arise after nothing. So truly life is actually floating above nothing.