It was I who saw her. But the ‘I’ that I was before I witnessed her preciousness is so very different, so foreign to the ‘I’ that I am now. It was I who saw her. What I saw was not made of pure light, or holy fire. No! She was made of flesh and blood. She was human, but to say she was part of that race brings me to the conclusion that the rest of us are beasts. Oh, it was I who saw her.
I was walking through the forest, hiking on my own as I enjoy brooding in the heart of nature. I was so lost in thought, that I strayed away from the path, and wandered through the towering trees. It was silent, the kind of silence that could pierce a man’s ears. It was then that I heard the faint murmur, a melody that seemed to be coming from the forest itself. The grace of it touched something inside of me, but not my heart. It was then that I understood that the heart was merely a pump, for the feeling that erupted amidst my body shook my mind. I followed the sound, that angelic tone, and it led me to a clearing, which was shaped like an irregular circle, closer to an oval than a circle. It was I who saw her, it was there that I saw her. She was standing across the clearing (which wasn’t vast at all, but only a few meters wide) dressed in rags, the color of which seemed like an imprint of the surrounding environment with shades of brown and green. It was I and I alone who saw her wrapped in those humble attires, with her long pitch black hair resting on her light butterscotch colored shoulders. She moved around with grace like a ballerina would, her slender legs showing as she did what looked like a ceremonial dance, singing her song. I couldn’t make out what she was chanting, all I heard was:
“O’ lover, how long it’s been
O’ darling, our lust is no sin.”
I caught a glimpse of her hazel eyes, which were filled with tears. She dropped her rags. As I gazed upon the beauty that was her body. Not a single sexual thought came to my mind, all I wanted was to hold her, just that and only that. Her slight curves looked as if they were hand drawn with an elegant brush. That’s exactly what she was, a piece of natural art. It was I who saw her, it was I who saw her vanish.
There is no complexity to it, no long tale, or a brilliant trick. The woman with the pitch black hair simply disappeared leaving me… a different me.