The Thirteenth Hour

faiza:

welcome to chowk...

i will have more to say on this story later...

rgds,

t

You make a wicked enterance on chowk! Enjoyed the story.

Faiza Jee,

After reading your prose, I sat for a long time in silence. I felt something that I wanted to express but could not find the words appropriate for this purpose. But what I feel can not be far from this poem by Pablo Neruda. Whom I feel this towards probably does not exist. But a certain certitude professes this my soul that she could have existed, could have. - perhaps in my dreams.

Take care.

XVII

I don`t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz,
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as one loves certain dark things,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that doesn`t bloom and carries
the light of those flowers, hidden, within itself,
and thanks to your love the tight aroma that rose
from the earth lives in my body in darkness.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where
I love you directly without problems or pride:
I love you like this because I don`t know any other way to love

except in this form in which I am not nor are you,
so close that your hand upon my chest is mine,
so close that your eyes close with my dreams.

- Pablo Neruda