A FROZEN SOUL

           "The heaven is not in the sky where the steps of the humans never reach, but behind, where the steps of the traveller towards the death can never return" (I.T.)

Once upon a time there was a frozen soul. It had been frozen by loneliness and lack of love and it was sleeping in an ice shell that the winters  with their cold breath  were always making it thicker.

        Not even the summers passing over it could melt its shield of frozen sadness, although sometimes it looked like starting to get out of numbness... but perhaps the drops falling from it, making its translucent outline thiner, were only tears.

        The strange thing was that, along with the monotonous flow of the time in that abstract dimension, a winter was the one who woke it up from lethargy. A gray winter, missing the sparkling white of the snow but one who was breathing kindness in all breezes of the wind and of the sea. And the frozen soul was returning to life, blooming in love the way the trees bloom for a second time in the late autumns. 
        And the even stranger thing was that after this, a torrid summer night was going to lock it up again in its icy shell, slowly removing all its dreams and illusions, all the happiness barely seen. From then on, no winter was going to be mild anymore like the one that had scattered orange tree blossoms over it.

        Now the frozen soul does not hurt anymore, although it barely can breath beneath the evil ice growing always upon it, but lives again and again the moment of happiness it had, feeding itself with it and feeding the moment with itself as not to let it die. And if it cries sometimes, the tears are not anymore bitter, but sweet tears of love and longing. That is maybe why the ice shell slowly becomes heart shaped. 

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