PART 1: THE LEGEND OF THE RAIN

This story is for the person in my past who I loved so dearly. Our love was my inspiration in writing this short story. 

   Once upon a time, there was a Rain brought forth by the excruciating throbs of summer. Its beauty, beyond matter. Its power, immeasurable. Its love... Its love is its life...

     I had no idea that this insipid element would drench me in a way I'd lose my breath; in a way, I'd lose my sight of what is just and principled; in a way, I'd bury my sanity in one of those hidden rooms of the mighty Erebus.

    He came to the room with those rounded eyes that were pundits in feigning confidence. I thought I'd drown in them. His eyes are like rivers silent and deep; murky and mysterious. I wondered as to how many monsters had awaited beneath those rivers--his eyes. Subconsciously, I'd die just pondering upon a lethargic thought of paddling tips of my shaking fingers on those rivers--his eyes. This Rain had an arrogance that could throw even the meekest of the hermits. That was because he was the mighty Rain! The mighty...mighty summer rain.

    I fancied every part of his divinity as I kept every pleasure of his existence fabricated beyond the tendrils and fibers of my flesh. He was contagious. I did not see the signs. I failed to see the signs. I was in fact being drawn to his power. Was it divine intervention? Fatalistic phenomenon? No one knew. Oh no... Not even the gods of all those ridiculous religions.

    This Rain came from the bosom of the ocean one night when the moon went down to kiss the salty waters of the earth. The legend claimed rambling waves as the Rain emerged from the vastness of the mystic ocean. The earth rolled deep reverberating sounds, stammering the name: Mighty Rain... Mighty Summer Rain...

    The Rain's appearance was carefully chiseled by nature. It has the sweetest smile. His smile captivated the purest essence of a child's innocence. Ahh, his smile is immaculate. I was there when he smiled at the lovely nightingales. I thought he'd hear my heart's incessant beats as I bathe with his smile. I knew, in the realm of my psyche, that I loved him. But he was the special Rain. He lived in a totally different kingdom. It was a shame that his kingdom didn't permit my unsolicited thoughts. Not even my shadow could delight the place where he dwelt. And so, I continued to love him from afar. 

    My sinful eyes saw everything. I saw how the rain hovered around as it whipped everyone with his voice. They say that the Rain's voice is incomprehensible. It can only be played inside the most important vessel. No one knew where the vessel could be found until the night I saw him playing, hopping around in the gateway to the forest. I watched carefully as he opened his mouth. God, how I wanted to kiss those lips. The Master Hound who lived in the mountains warned me not to even try kissing him. For his kiss reserved for the one who brought him to life--the moon. The Master knew everything, but I was willing to disobey him. I repeated almost like a mantra my longing to find the vessel where I could hear his voice. In uncertainty, I started to close my eyes. In desperation, I started to weep. I knew my love would lead me to an utter oblivion. Alas! The moment I closed my eyes I heard a fleeting sound being carried by the wind. I tried to focus on the sound and literally commanded my sense of hearing to locate where the unfamiliar sound came from. I was in an instant trance. I felt an in-surging comfort. It was as if I was in the middle of the ocean, floating, drifting. My heart suddenly leaped in euphoria that I started weeping. I have not heard such an enchanting sound. It was then that I realized that the voice did not come from anywhere in the forest. It was not the product of the splashing sound of the nearby brook. It was unmistakable. The music was coming from my chest, constantly jiving the beating of my heart. The music emanated from my heart. The mythical vessel! I knew, from there, that my heart was a vessel. It was true after all that Rain's voice could only be heard inside a vessel. I was in love with him and so my heart became the vessel that beckoned the resonating beauty of his unparalleled voice.

    His voice... His voice so tender, unfolded in front of my eyes his own cup of sacrifices and pains.

    He, himself, has always been an element of love that continued to undergo a process so painful and noble. To go up and be caressed by the loving hands of the mid-air; to be transformed into beauty that was fashioned by love; and to fall freely and die willingly quenching the dry lands, thirsty forest, abandoned plantation, and barren deserts. 

    He is the summer rain. The same rain that loved and ceaselessly cried for the moon's elusive attention. His confusion has lured so many. And so he had sung with tears that no heart could comprehend.  

    The wisdom I learned from his very existence, I have carried with a heart that is soft and aching. For I knew that I could only be delighted with my own delusions and illusions of being drenched by him. 

    He is not just an ordinary rain but he is the summer rain. He cries like a poet and surges like a platoon of armies. His love is unattainable; unreachable... for it was an ethereal love... Those whom he had come across with were lavished with love and lost their essence...

    One night, while he was sleeping... My head pulsating in pain, I went near him. I saw in his left eye a tear that glistened. He was so handsome. He was my dream. I was ready to disobey the great hermit when I heard his murmur out of a nightmare, a name. It was not my name. I couldn't go on. I knew I had to run away from him. For my love for him is beyond the logic of creation. I couldn't contain him when I knew that the Rain has always been free. My own cares were not enough to even try overriding his own destiny. 

    In pain, I ran away... I promised not to look back... 

    I knew I would never be the same again... And so I wrote Rain this story that someday he'd know... that in his life, there was someone who awed his presence and fancied his love.

    This is my version of the legend. The moment he'd read this would be the moment I had long perished that I may have had remained a myth... just a myth in his own legend.

    And so let me end this story in the way I started it:

    Once upon a time, there was a Rain brought forth by the excruciating throbs of summer. Its beauty, beyond matter. Its power, immeasurable. Its love... Its love is its life...

    And its life is not me...

    And he would live... once upon a time!

copyright 2010 The Amazing Pig