The River Between the Sun and the Moon

Part II of "The Isles of the Orphans."

       "Have these things changed?"

       "No no. No, not at all. Why do you ask?"

       "Well, the sun seems to be shying more and more away from the moon."

       "I suppose that is possible, yes. But look at the moon. It keeps getting closer and closer to the sun, the more it tries to get away. But if you also happen to look at them both at the very same instance, you'll see that they're both doing what the other, and themselves, are doing. They're a celestial apparatus bound together by this juxtaposition that God himself has set forth."

       "The sun is intelligent, right?"

       "Oh yes. Very intelligent."

       "And the moon?"

       "Intelligent in it's own right, I'd tell. Everything is."

       "Do you think either realize what's happening here, sense they're so intelligent?"

       "No, not at all. They're looking at it as something they may or may not want to do. When, in fact, it's something that they must do. They think they're living in boldness when they're just doing what they're meant to do."

       "So there has to be something that will bring them to that realisation. Right?"

       "Ah, well.... I wouldn't necessarily count on that, friend. Unless you count them as the something."

       "Realizations of anything can be brought upon by anything. So yeah, I guess they fall in that category."

       "Are you sure you think that they fit that bill?"

       He pondered on that for a bit. Then that brought him back to the river, all those years ago. And he realize then that everything must go through something of this very same thing. To be put behind a curtain that will only come into view through self-awareness. If you don't notice something so mysterious about yourself by yourself, how can one truly know something mysterious of another?

       "Yes. Yes, they most certainly do."

       "How does that make you feel?"

       "Like I've realized something I should've known forever ago." He turned to make his leave.

       "Where are you going?"

       "I'm going back to the river. She'll be there, and I have to let her know about this somewhat-paradox of nature. Maybe she'll understand. But at least I'll be able to tell her. Maybe she'll make the wrong choice in her decision, or maybe she won't. Maybe if she realizes it too, she'll stay at the river and hopefully go swimming in it with me. Maybe she won't. But at least I'll be able to tell her."

        So he left there. He left and made way for the Tired River once more. Where the fish are his thoughts and the river his body. And where, maybe, she is the conveyance of his emotions. Then again, maybe not. But at least he'll be able to tell her.