The song of the river stream often heard louder, as the stable stapling horse gradually stopped by the river bank. shadow of the rocks did swaying but fail to hide the bowing Moon. The dancing dragon in the belly made Wolf stop and made fire for strong hot coffee and a comforting beans from the back pack.
As the night got colder, Wolf add more wood to the kept stable fire, let the wood eaten inch by inch, waiting the water get boiled imagining the smoke of hot coffee. Hand rolling tobacco cigaret flop between his finger, promising real smoke drifting upon the night sweet air.
Wolf eyes glued to the tobacco smoke, and finding the moon, as if smiling to him, pure in existence, sending both Love and Light rays fairly and equally to each part of mother Earth touched. Then, on Wolf ears..even The Mother Sing.
The smell of boiled coffee, grabbed wolf awareness to put more wood into the fire. His Eyes caught the eaten branch, which can send light only if it is lit. Sipping his strong black coffee, Wolf did notice the Moon, he sighed, cause he knew, he never can be the Moon. He can learn from Her, even a lot, but He never become the moon.
Yet, Wolf did smile...cause he knew..he got one thing in common with Her, both of them never walk back ....
As it is written in Indonesian Language
NB: YOUR PATH IS THE MOON Path Susan, you are there, shining or not to everyone without exception. How can others with equal to the the fire eaten branch understand you. Yet never forget my dear one, we are always in between..when breath ceased our flexh...than may be The Moon are much closer.
Tarian Hujan and the Black Wolf
August 20th 2010