The Cloak

I stole away to the magic forest, hitching on my cloak of sadness for comfort

I arrived in the black of night, thankful for the shadows

I solemnly whispered, “The night sky looks like death.”

The ancient enchantment stirred the trees from their slumber

One tree, who’s trunk was split as though he had too much wisdom to contain in one, muttered sleepily, “Ah yes, but even the sky is alive as it is dying.”

“What do you mean?” I asked

“You are correct that there is death in the sky. All the stars you see in it are dying. That is why they shine so bright.”

I looked up at the millions of brilliant lights accompanying the moon

I felt overwhelmed with grief watching such beautiful death

“What is the point of the Moon continuing to embrace her dying companions?” I asked despairingly. “She loves them knowing she will eventually have to say goodbye.”

The wise tree gently shook his leaves. “The purpose of love is not to guarantee forever or the absence of pain. Rather, it is knowing that there is no forever and a great risk of pain, yet finding that it is worth it anyway, because they are that special.”

“If they are that special and yet become lost to you,” I asked, my lip quavering, “does that mean you are destined to love alone?”

The branches of the age old forest rustled in hushed voices, as though I had betrayed myself

In a warm, gentle tone, the tree replied, “Why do you think there are so many stars? Because although each one is dear to the Moon, when one dies, she is comforted by the others, who she loves just as much. There are many living in the world. Many who have loved and lost. But in my lifespan, I’ve seen even the most disintegrated of hearts find their way to each other, healing to making a whole again. As long as there are stars in the sky, there is always hope for another love.”

I thanked the forest and the wise tree and made my way back, leaving a trail of tears

Upon my return, I realized I’d left my cloak behind

I was glad to be rid of it


About samlobos

I am an avid fan of creating narratives in my head about random experiences and quotes for future books I will probably not write. I harbor a 15 year old girl in my psyche and like to solve world issues when I'm half asleep. View all posts by samlobos

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