WHITE STONES

WHITE STONES

The white gems sparkled when you gave me the ring, as if a sunbeam was reflecting in them. But it was night; the sun was sleeping since a long time. The sparkle came from the reflection of my face with smiling eyes, full of tears of happiness. A ring with white gems… a ring from you.

I didn’t know whether it was a promise for happiness or only I wished it was. I only know how much I used to love that ring, I only know I was taking it with me whenever I had an obstacle to win – no matter if it was just a hard day or I had something where I had to succeed by all means. And I have succeeded. The ring has always helped me. I have never told you this, because I knew what you would answer. You would have told me once again that there are no such things. And that if human minds can communicate over the distance, by telepathy, it is impossible to communicate with an object. How else could it be when the object has no life, therefore no judgment ?

It has no judgment. But it could have a soul. Or, at least, it could be related to someone’s soul, that would live within it. Just the same way as your soul was living in the massive silver ring with sparkling white gems, that was gently squeezing my finger in the difficult moments as if it was telling me that I was not alone, that you were there with me, holding my hand, loving me.

I have never felt the same since you have gone. Only now I understand that not the ring was the one to help me, but your love. I use to look at it, sometimes, holding it with my fingers, moving it slowly, trying to catch a ray of light that would give the sparkle back to the gems. Although they are sparkleless now, I still see reflected inside them our long walks in the moonlight, by the edge of the sea, when only the moonbeams reflected in the white gems were drawing paths of light on the gray stones on our way.

… and only now I understand that the tears of the moon falling from the ring on the gray stones have given birth to the white stones of the earth.

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