Right below the top of the mountain was a
little cave with its mouth towards a large river. It had huge rocks and trees as its covering.
A fox and vixen trekked once all the way to the cave only to find some solitary
place to feel that womb of nature and perform the ritual of psychological
unison when morning was still in the shades of darkness.
The fox had found vixen sitting on her own
upon a large rock right beside the river.
She had her own stories to discuss, her own songs to rhyme with that
river and she seemed perfectly at peace with her ambience. He gently came and sat right beside her. For
hours none spoke, only shared a silent
company of each other.Both had the previous night in mind – when both had
stolen out into that forest – together beside a moony river. It would have been great had the fox suddenly
not felt those moon’s effects. She tried
to calm him down – but all in vain. This morning fox had guilt inside – guilt
of leaving her alone last night , guilt of not being by her side. Vixen was at
peace . nevertheless she expected her answers. Either ways, she had convinced
herself – to be by her own side.
Together they walked beyond that river and
stones. Together they reached great heights. Only to find that cave – hidden so
well under layers of time. They entered that cave and went out of sight. To the
world – they were invisible , yet another tree behind. There , upon a trunk they stood somehow. Side
by side, inside that cave, they felt wow. Thousands of feet below was that
river. There in morning chill they had shiver. To feel the beauty of the moment
.to be right inside that rocky dent.
There they talked volumes with each other.
there he went on with his mutter. She had double talks going on .one inside her
head . ones with her new dawn. Nature had bounded them in a strange way, right
in that cave where both stood like stand. They had no words discussed to stay
together. but they knew they were one – from that morning stabber.
After millions of moments together, they
once again visited that cave. To find that love inside, once more to be each
other’s tame. But the cave had died under those few moments. When they craved
for it the most to mend their dents. The trees had been unrooted. The mouth had
been crushed close. They must have faced a havoc. Those walls and that sand.
They held each other’s palm to assure their presence. To tell never mind, we
are still together with love immense.
But the fate was due, the same fate that
that cave had. All of them were wild, equally
vulnerable their fate – so sad.
The cave broke down, so did they. In shambles were they all, in fragments was
their fate. Were they really ill- fitted or was it time’s new rate. Their
nature was wild, and freedom was the fate. So the fox was free and so was the
vixen. Beyond hills and rivers, was their fiction.
The disaster had been caused nevertheless.
Only they new that time when the cave was no less.; the beauty and grandeur of
that hidden corner. Only they had the key and they knew its grandeur. Surely
the cave had enlarged to be a part of the huge mountain cliff. It had sunshine
and also snowy bliss. But that cosy feeling that it once had when he and she
were inside. well that was something that was not in sunshine.
On rare nights the cave whispered to that
moonlight – to take her to her past when she and he were so bright. Together
they used to jump in the river, together they used to trek to its side.
Together were they so happy int those moments. Together – was now a rare sight.
And then she looked high up – at her moon. drowning in that darkness – under
goldish swoon. And then she had a strange sigh – right with those cliffs – by
her side.
Mystical Wanderer
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