There Was Once A Man Who Fell In Love With The Sky

There was once a man who fell in love with the sky, but she was up high, away from his reach so he was left to stare with a longing heart.

Every morning he would jump out of bed, and step outside to see, what dress she had put on for the day. Deep blue, rumbling gray, bright, or dark he loved her no matter what she wore. When wild spring storms would blow across her face, and all creatures were snug in their burrows sheltering from the tempest, he would stand out on the hill with his arms stretched out like a solemn cross. People from afar, watching from the shelter of their windows, would shake their heads, for they did not see what he saw. They did not feel what he felt.

Conquering the hill to welcome the gale, he was not afraid. Anticipation thrummed through his body, for he loved the sky and everything she poured down on the earth. The cool raindrops caress his cheeks like soft kisses, that would trail down his face tumbling to the ground below. The thunder cracking the air sent tremors of excitement rushing through his blood. He loved the howling wind for he knew it was a friend of hers. He welcomed the storm, for he knew it came from her.

Birds chirping, and the warm sunbeams reflecting light off the rippling pond marked the beginning of summer. The man wandered through the forests envying the birds their wings. He no longer slept inside, for the crude roof blocked his view of the sky’s wondrous stars.

On beautiful sunny days he would lay in lush green meadows to stare up at the sky and marvel at her perfect blue. When the leaves rustled in the trees and the grasses waved like land on sea, the man would pick flowers and throw them to the wind asking it to carry them to her, his love. His hands he raised to the setting sun, to feel the last rays of the ending day for he knew they had passed through her to get to him.

In the winter he would stand in fields during a still blizzard, catch the thickly falling snowflakes on his fingers, closing his eyes and imagine her. He yearned to hold her. To run his hands through her wild hair. To feel the softness of the skin of her hand in his. To hear her voice whisper words that only she could say. The sound of her rain on the leaves, of her thunder rumbling in the distance were not enough to appease the desires growing stronger by the day.

With winter drawing to a close, an early spring breeze found the man sitting on a high hill with tears streaming from his eyes as he watched the white clouds drifting lazily across sapphire sky.

She asked the man, “Why do you cry so?”

“For I see what I can never have.” He replied in a voice that brought a tear to the eye of the spring breeze.

After getting a hold of herself, she asked him again. “What is it you want so dearly?”

“To touch the sky just once before I die.”

“Why?” She asked.

“Because” He sighed. “I love her.”

The spring breeze who flitted from flower to flower, tossed the hats of business men into the air, and had never had a serious thought in her life, sat down beside the man to think.

“I know! I can carry a message for you!” She said to the man.

The mans eyes lit up like the twinkling stars of the night. “Thank you.” He said. “Please tell her that I love her, and to hear but an acknowledgment of my love would be enough.”

The spring breeze danced and twisted her way upwards, her happy laughter echoing over the valley. She had an important job to do. When the spring breeze reached the sky, ready to convey her message, the sky turned her back and would not speak to her.

“What is the matter? Asked the spring breeze. “Please listen. I have a message for you from the man.”

Turning around the sky exclaimed. “The man! Which man?”

For many months the sky had noticed the man showing her his love in the only way he could. She had received his flowers blown in by the summer winds, and watched him as he danced in her storms. The sky had become fond of him, even grown to love him. When she had seen him talking to the spring breeze, she felt for the first time jealous. “Why the one who is always mooning after you of course.” Giggled the spring breeze.

The sky heard the message from the lips of the spring breeze, and it warmed her heart like no sun ray ever had. She desperately wanted to speak to the man, to hear his voice say the words himself. So she asked the summer breeze to tell the man to find a high mountain, and she would come as close to the earth as she was able, and perhaps they could talk.

The man upon hearing the request from the sky, blew a kiss to the heavens, and headed west to find the tallest mountain in the surrounding land. He met a traveler on the road who told him of the Mount of Mortem, the highest mountain for thousands of miles, but the most difficult to climb. With jubilation, and a little fear the man made his way to what was his only hope.

His muscles ached and shook. His breath came in gasps, but the strength in his heart never waned. He pulled himself up onto the tip of Mortem, and the sight he saw left him breathless. There was the sky in all her glory. His heart ached with the love he felt for her. She was so close almost close enough for his grasping fingers to touch.

“I love you.” He whispered.

“I love you too.” she whispered back.

Her voice was soft and smooth silk, that held storms. They stared in silence each spellbound by the presence of the other.

“Oh, if only I could hold you but once.” said the man. “My heart would forever be at peace.”

“Jump!” said the sky. “Join me in my abode. I promise I shall catch you, and forever we shall dwell with the birds, and the wind.” Her delicate hand that held such strength stretched forward reaching out to the man, pleading, yearning for his touch.

He stared into her eyes and with trust that can only come from love, and jumped off the mountain. As high as he could he reached out to her hand and grasped it. They were both so naive and did not know. For a moment he felt her, and then his hand passed right through, for she was naught but air. The man plummeted to the earth, to his death. He seemed to fall so slowly, but still he held her gaze. His eyes held such sorrow, but then he smiled, and whispered to the wind, to carry to her, “My heart loves you even unto death.” With a sigh his last breath was forced from his lips, as his body hit the ground.

An anguished sob escaped her lips. Her heart was torn in two. She turned her face from his broken body, the man who loved her more then life itself. She called the clouds as the tears poured form her face. She wet the earth with her grief, her broken heart never to mend. She wanted to flee, to hide, and pour out her sorrow, but she was trapped to the ceiling of the world, as he had been to the earth.

And so ended the great love, of the sky and the man.

From a hill not far from the mountain a young girl who had seen it all, wiped the tears from her eyes. There is a lesson to be learned from this she said to herself. Never trust, never love. She turned and walked to her home down in the valley, with a longing in her heart she did not understand.

From another hill sat a young boy who had also watched the tragic scene unfold. One might think he said, that we should never trust, never love, but what is there to life if we do not? Was the man not happy when he died. They had something, something that I would like to have one day. With a resolution in his heart he set out on the road to go wherever his feet might take him.

In the valley on the other side of the mountain, a mother raven stepped off of her eggs and stood on the edge of the nest. The eggs began to wobble and crack, for new life was being born. All five of the eggs hatched except one, which seemed to be having trouble. Finally a raven so black, and so perfect in the eyes of its mother burst forth from the shell, and cawed it’s first word to the world.

“Sky”