THE  BLUE  GOD'S  STORY

To Bruce James

        Once upon a time, there was a blue island in the middle of an ocean. An island where a blue god used to come from time to time, wearing blue birds on his shoulders. And the sea was sending its foamy waves to kiss the ankles of the great good god.
        One day, the blue god had met a woman, one of those creatures made of earth and belonging to the earth for not being able to fly. The god had given her his hand and she had sit down next to him on the blue rock by the edge of the sea. They had not talked to each other ; only had swung their legs in the waves of the sea, watching each other in silence.
        The god was discovering something he had not felt before, something coming from their eyes and from the whisper of the other heart beating next to his. It was an unknown feeling even for his divine nature. But there was, therefore it had to have a name. And the god could not call it by any known name. He had to find a name that would not be like any other, an unique name as this wonderful feeling deserved to have. That was when the earth had heard for the first time the word Love.

        After some time, the god had to leave. He had to go back to his world to give the other gods the blessing of the sublime nectar he had discovered. He had to teach them love, the only more immortal thing than their very divine nature.
        But the day when he left, his beloved had not come at their meeting place. The god had to go without good bye, already missing her because he knew that, during the few moments he was going to be away, in her world it was going to be already late. He only hope he would find her again upon his return.

        It was a sad winter day when he came back. The sky was covered with heavy gray clouds and the sea was roaring hitting against the rocks. The god had waited for her at their meeting place on the blue rock. But nobody had come.
        Years had passed by in the human world. Yet, the blue rock still kept, as a delicate, almost wiped away, memory, the shape of her body. It was a sign that she had kept on coming there for a long time. Maybe she had still loved him after his departure, or maybe she had hated him for having deserted her. Maybe she had called him from their rock, praying the horizons to bring him back to her, or maybe she had forgotten him. Maybe she had cried over him, or maybe she had cursed him. He was never going to find it out. And the blue grass was whispering as from a memory under the harsh winter wind.
        The blue god had searched her for a long time. He had asked the sky and the earth, the creatures of the forest and of the sea. Nobody knew anything about her. Maybe she had left or maybe she had died. Nobody was still remembering her and the god was always coming back to their rock, burdened by sadness and loneliness, and used to sit there till late, watching the sea, looking himself as a rock burdened with all memories of the earth. And the sea was getting, towards the sunset, a divine blue color, as the tears of the god crying over his lost love.

      Maybe later he had left for good, because nobody had ever seen him again. Neither the sea was becoming blue towards the sunset, nor the blue grass of the rock was still remembering the melancoholic shape of his body. But the legend says that every year, the day he had met her, he was coming down from the sky in order to throw, from the rock of their love, blue flowers in the sea.

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