Strained movements.
“And I suppose none of you are aware of the importance of our presence here, at this
very moment?”
Shuffling robes.
“We could just leave the fire be. But in truth, that would be utterly unforgivable. Behind these
suave flames, at its deepest center, is the fuel of our bond, of our memories, of our emotions of
sadness and love, which ignites this very light. Mark my words when I say this fire is no mere
light, no, it is much more, it is a symbol of the life of the dead.”
Perplexed, even frightened glances shot across the dancing light, all ears engaged in the
foreign tale.
“A burning of our desires, a light to comfort them of the knowledge that we have not forgotten
what many do, for once, we demolish the barricade that prevents even the most powerful of tasks,
and embrace with wisdom, respect, and appreciation of our roots. And with patience, we wait. As
all the flames ignites across our land, as the embers’ glint fades, the risen smoke engraves their
bequests, their treasures, across the skies.”
“That’s it? We just sit around and wait for the fire to die out?” came a blunt tone.
“Ah, but you see, that’s the beauty of it. Proper respect is done in the simplest of ways, we need
not more of what we’ve already offered. Reminiscence is best presented with the smallest of means.”
A faint purple streamed the sky, the thriving winds now more eager to satisfy their hunger.
The children frowned upon the Elder’s as slight tension begun to persist.
“Indeed, it truly is a shame.” The Elder’s shrill voice broke the moment’s silence. “You children
are shaped to misjudge and misperceive these traditions. I question what will happen to the land’s
future, but at the moment, desolation appears to be waiting.”
“What do you mean, ‘you’ question?’” A ripe, high voice rippled across.
“Don’t deny it. Through your eyes, this land is clustered lumps of grain, remnants of withered
and rotten relics. You may opt to object, but in reality, once observed, this is, with much sadness,
the true view of how you choose-or are made to choose-to see our home.”
“How would you know what we thought when you haven’t even asked us? And what’s the big
deal if some people think that? It’s all a matter of perspective, isn’t it?”
“Perspective, hmm? You may have a perspective, but how many times have you actually stood
and considered your own thoughts? Stood and actually considered this vast desert? And…when
have you asked for my perspective yourself?”
“I don’t….understand?” This time it was a tender, naive voice, one of a youngster.
The Elder sighed. “Amongst the quivering storms that roam these lands, the winds recite
a tale of longing, of flourish stunted by thirst, tales that fade with ongoing time, an ever
amplifying chant which despite its desperation, few hear. The flight of the wind is not a mere
rush to the final destination, but hollers, screams, a plight to be heard but one in vain, as it drifts
away into the forgotten.”
A puddle of dark ink had already leaked out into the distance. Even with the presence of the
fire’s warmth, bodies shivered from a sudden chill that swept throughout the region.
“Every breath of this land, every movement, is significant of life. Sit, and listen. Listen to
the harmonic rivers that grow louder with earnest, the freezing glaciers, the ushering plains
and the swishing reed-beds, the beating hooves of the camels, the crowing of the birds, the
melodic sounds of every living being echoes life all around. Sit, and appreciate this large basin
