My Heart Unto You

The moon is high in the deep night sky and the fog has nestled comfortably amid the forest trees. Nearby, upon a large boulder at the rivers edge, sits a fair skinned man in a pale blue button up shirt and jeans. The water is still, and as clear as glass, just barely capturing the reflection of his golden blonde hair at its edge. He is quietly weeping into his own hands.

There is no breeze tonight, but quiet whispers of concern seem to carry amidst the trees. Thus, as if beckoned, a girl emerges mystically from within the fog. Her skin is like porcelain, and she wears a flowing dress of sheering white. A simple headdress of wild flowers encircles her head and accents her long brown hair as it falls gently down in waves around her shoulders and down her back. She walks toward him with such a soft and elegant grace, all the while gazing downward, holding her hands, almost protectively, over her heart.

He doesn’t hear her approach, or when she kneels before him. She is sitting on her feet and places her hands in her lap. She continues to look only at her own hands.

Several moments pass in silence, in weeping, before she finally speaks in a voice that is just above a whisper,

"Beautiful one, with the blue eyes, please tell me why you cry"

"For this, I must know."

He is not startled when she speaks, but looks up from his hands in bewilderment. Looking at her, he seems to realize the sudden sense of peaceful tranquility that emanates from her presence. He is awed by her exquisite beauty, and seems keenly aware of her fated fragility.

He stumbles to find words, "I...where...who are you?" he finally manages to say despondently.

She lifts her head, opening her eyes to looks up at him. Her eyes are aglow in an astonishing, deep and bright blue, naturally reflecting the moon's light. He is taken by them, hypnotized, unable to look away from her. She seems to be drawing him into her, possessing his heart, his soul.

Then, still holding his stare, a single tear falls slowly from the corner of her eye, descending down her cheek and falling silently to her dress.

She then takes his hand and places it in hers. Her hands are cold and so pale next to his, he notices, but there is something indescribable and amazing about the cold as he feels it course through his body. It is as though it is somehow filling the empty spaces within him.

He doesn’t take notice that he is no longer weeping, and is compelled to speak to her as he quietly begins to speak of his sadness and sorrows.

And she patiently and empathetically listens to every word, all the while, holding his eyes into hers, wrapping her love around his heart.

When he is finished, many moments pass in silence and more tears fall from her eyes, but she never says another word. She soon rises slowly and serenely leans to him lifting his face gingerly with her hands. She kisses his lips long and tenderly, touching his face all the while. He closes his eyes and unknowingly breathes her in as something magical, and

mystical flows warmly, soothingly, through his veins, and surrounds his heart. She pulls away, looks at him momentarily as he remains, frozen in a moment.

When he finally opens his eyes, she is moving back toward the forest. She briefly looks back at him with her sad blue eyes, then turns away as the trees seem to whisper once again.

And she vanishes into the fog

With her, she takes his pain and sadness, to dwell within her among the trees. For this is her purpose, to those who cross her path in their sorrows, she breathes her life into them, giving only of her love, and taking nothing in return.