Explaining a story I hear within this piece.

Here is something new I’m testing out with this site. It’s not really techie, but lets see how well the feedback goes.

Sometimes you find love, sometimes love finds you. You just have to comment for this beautiful piano song. You know that whenever you listen to this song, it always sounds different. When you´re sad, it makes you want to cry. When I listen to this song, just can’t stop thinking about all the bad things that happened to me in my life. It brings it back, but in the end, all that terrible things will change into the happy moments. Don’t know why I’m posting this, but maybe because this song just deserves it. Prepare for the wall of text story below.

 

Anyway, here is a piece that explains the story I hear within this piece:

[Play the song and read this in your head (or out loud)]

 

In a picturesque garden, on a windy spring day, two people are sitting together on a bench beneath a blossoming cherry tree.

There are no words between them, yet the melody of the burbling stream and the sound of trees gently swaying in the wind convey a sense of peace that cannot be explained in words – only felt with the heart. Both are lost in their own thoughts – the boy thinking of the pure blue sky above them, and the girl admiring the pristine water, glinting in the sunlight as it flows freely past the smooth stones that line the nearby stream. At times the two would turn and face each other, exchanging thoughts and feelings through the subtle movements of vivid eyes, or the slight smiles on their faces.

It is the language of hearts and minds, the unspoken communication of soulmates who no longer need to speak to be heard, and no longer need to listen to understand. All around them the world moves on, the gentle swaying of leaves in the wind marking the passage of time. Yet, within their little space in the garden, it is as if time has stopped, replaced by a sense of eternity that soothes the mind and calms the senses as they gaze at each other, surrounded by the vivid scenery of the garden. For as long as the boy can remember, they have sat on this bench, within this garden of blossoming trees and burbling streams.

At times he struggles to remember exactly when they first sat down together, but that is a strange concept in an eternal existence – almost as foreign as the thought of a time when he was not sitting at the bench, facing the girl. They have always been together, in a way, and the garden around them has become the only existence they have ever known. Yet the boy yearns to remember. He yearns to know of a time long past, when he had yet to enter the garden, and sit down on the bench underneath the cherry blossoms, and face the girl that he has come to accept as his soulmate. The memories are so close, yet forever unreachable, as if reminiscing upon those thoughts would shatter the eternity that surrounds them. But the boy still yearns to remember – and suddenly, a flash of realization crosses his face, and he begins to speak.

“Who are we?” He asks the girl.

For a moment, there is silence, and then a subtle change in the girl’s eyes: a vivid sparkle that invites his thoughts, encourages his words. Suddenly, like an old dam that has finally given way, the boy becomes overwhelmed with questions: “Where are we? Why are we here, in this garden, surrounded by nothing, yet thinking of everything? I am thinking of myself, but do you know who I am? Do you know my name? I don’t know who you are, but I think that I love you. Do you love me?” The girl listens intently, yet does not speak, and eventually the boy grows silent, retreating into his thoughts. He has never spoken to her before, and now that he has, he realizes that perhaps she may not be able to speak back to him. He wonders if she will ever be able to speak back to him, and somewhere deep in his heart, he feels regret for what he has done, for it has separated the two of them – he, who can speak, and she, who can only listen. For the first time, a strange feeling has overtaken him.

It is the feeling of loneliness – and along with it, sorrow. “Is any of this real?” He finally asks, and from the moment the words leave his lips, the girl seems to come alive, and a smile crosses her face. A gentle wind rustles the leaves of the blossoming trees around them, carrying her words to him: “Does it matter?” She asks gently, and to the boy, her voice is sweeter than the laughter of the burbling stream and more soothing than the swaying of the trees.

He is overcome with emotion – at last, after an eternity of silence, they have been united by their words. Yet at the same time, he is still yearning for more. The boy yearns to remember. “Yes. I want to know if this is real. I want to know if this garden is real, if you are real, and if I am real. I want to love you.” He replies. The trees dance in the wind, and small petals begin to fall around them, like the soft notes of a never-ending song.

As the boy waits for an answer, the girl looks off into the distance, and her smile takes on a look of sadness that the boy cannot understand. When she finally turns to him, the boy is surprised to hear the bittersweet tone of her voice. “If you really love me, then please don’t question our love. Our time together is too short to doubt what we have. We are here for each other, and so it does not matter what others think of who we are, or where we choose to go.” The boy considers what she has said, but at last, his burning desire to know overwhelms him. Finally, he looks into the girl’s vivid eyes, taking her hands into his. “Even though I do not know who you are, you mean so much to me, and I have always loved you. I want to know that our love is real, and that we are real. I want to remember our past lives together. I want to know who we were, and who we are, and who we will be, together. I want to know these things because I love you, and I want you to be free from this garden of dreams.” The wind swirls around them, and the air is thick with petals, like a cascade of blossoms throwing themselves at their feet. The boy can hardly see the girl’s face, yet he can feel her sadness and grief. A feeling of terrible regret wells up inside of him, but it is too late, and already he can feel his bond with her growing distant by the second as it slowly fades away.

“We have known each other for so little of a time, yet already, you yearn to be free,” the girl says, and there is an immeasurable sorrow in her voice that pulls at the depths of the boy’s heart. “There is so much beauty in what we have, and none of the cruelties and sadness of the world that awaits us. Our destinies are so different, but fate has brought us here to this eternal garden of dreams, for a rare moment of happiness in a world of sorrow. “I may never see you again, and it is a thought that brings me only grief. Yet you yearn to be free, and perhaps…it was inevitable. From the moment you first spoke to me, you had bridged our blissful existence with reality. It was then that I knew that our time together was coming to an end.” “May we succumb to our fates knowing that we were once loved…and that somewhere out there, someone is longing for you to return, to come back to this garden of dreams and sit together here, watching the blossoms fall and savoring the feeling of being truly loved. Please take care…and farewell.”

The boy is blinded by the swirling cascade of blossoms, unable to see the girl. Suddenly, her hand slips from his grasp, and he desperately reaches out, calling for her. Yet there was nothing but the sounds of the agitated trees as their branches are stripped bare of the beautiful blossoms. They swirled around him, faster and faster, until there was nothing else but the world outside – a world without the trees, a world without the burbling stream and the pure blue sky, a world without the girl.

When the boy awakens, he is alone. The trees around him are bare, the riverbed long since dry. His mind feels strangely fuzzy, and when he searches his memories, there is little to remember. Yet there is a strangely familiar feeling in his heart, and as he starts down the little path leading away from the clearing with the bench, a look of realization comes to his face as he recognizes the feeling. It is the feeling of yearning, of understanding, of joy.

It is the feeling of being loved.

 

093 cherryblossombenchstory

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