Jul 12

Jul 12 51ème jour: ".. Take these tears, .. wash your skin .."

Picture by .::[ مـــ♥ــوزه ]::. (Moza a.k.a Mojah) ©

"C’est tellement mystérieux, le pays des larmes. "
Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
Le Petit Prince

To Shaaltiel

" On the fifth day, again, as always, it was thanks to the sheep, the secret of the little prince's life was revealed to me.
Abruptly, without anything to lead up to it, and as if the question had been born of long and silent meditation on his problem, he demanded: "A sheep; if it eats little bushes, does it eat flowers, too?"
"A sheep," I answered, "eats anything it finds in its reach."
"Even flowers that have thorns?"
"Yes, even flowers that have thorns."
"Then the thorns, what use are they?" I did not know.
(...)
The little prince never let go of a question, once he had asked it. (...) And I answered with the first thing that came into my head: "The thorns are of no use at all. Flowers have thorns just for spite!"
"Oh!" There was a moment of complete silence.
Then the little prince flashed back at me, with a kind of resentfulness: "I don't believe you! Flowers are weak creatures. They are naïve. They reassure themselves as best they can. They believe that their thorns are terrible weapons..."
(...)
Again the little prince disturbed my thoughts. "And you actually believe that the flowers..."
"Oh, no!" I cried. "No, no no! I don't believe anything. I answered you with the first thing that came into my head. Don't you see, I am very busy with matters of consequence!"
He stared at me, thunderstruck. "Matters of consequence!"
(...)
He was really very angry. He tossed his golden curls in the breeze.
(...)
His face turned from white to red as he continued: "If some one loves a flower, of which just one single blossom grows in all the millions and millions of stars, it is enough to make him happy just to look at the stars. He can say to himself, 'Somewhere, my flower is there...' But if the sheep eats the flower, in one moment all his stars will be darkened... And you think that is not important!"
He could not say anything more. His words were choked by sobbing.
The night had fallen. I had let my tools drop from my hands. Of what moment now was my hammer, my bolt, or thirst, or death? On one star, one planet, my planet, the Earth, there was a little prince to be comforted. I took him in my arms, and rocked him. I said to him: "The flower that you love is not in danger. I will draw you a muzzle for your sheep. I will draw you a railing to put around your flower. I will..."
I did not know what to say to him. I felt awkward and blundering. I did not know how I could reach him, where I could overtake him and go on hand in hand with him once more.
It is such a secret place, the land of tears. "