It took a while at first for me to hear the quiet sobs that echoed throughout the forest. I was too indulged in my own thoughts to really care about anything other than my own suffering mind. But eventually it did reach past the surface of my ears and into my head.
Someone was crying.
I tried to ignore the sounds at first—I had my own problems to deal with first. But strangely enough, no matter how far I walked, the sound just wouldn’t go. Eventually I made my way back to the other side of the park, planning to leave the place all together, but even then the crying didn’t stop resonating. Frustrated, I kicked a small rock beside me with force and watched it skid away into the distance.
As my eyesight wandered in the direction of the rock, I saw a faint glow hidden in the dense forestry of the park. Curiosity overcame my frustration, and quietly, I made my way toward the light. As I got closer, the shine became so magnificent that it took my breath away for a moment. What light could look so grand and beautiful?
Awed by the beauty, I walked slowly closer and closer to the light, and soon I could feel its warmth washing over me, relaxing my muscles. I felt like I was in a dream. But when I got close enough, the dream-like state disappeared quite suddenly as I realized what was producing such a godly aura.
A man laid on the ground, in a lifeless position, weeping quietly.
A layer of glowing light surrounded his figure, and his skin sparkled a bit, looking ever so surreal. He glowed the perfect shade of gold, so that it was easy to see him and doesn’t hurt the eyes. I bent down gently, as if my movement might disturb his beauty, and asked in a small unsure voice, “is something wrong?”
The weeping immediately stopped, but the glow remained. The man slowly lifted his head up and looked at me straight in the eyes. I felt naked and bare for a second, as if he could see my soul and my sins. Now that he faced me, I could make out his features clearly from the light he gave off. Something about him felt familiar; I felt a wave of nostalgia. But then he looked away and replied, “yes, there is something terribly wrong. I am lost, and I want to go home.”
The words that sound ever so childlike stung in my ears, melting my heart. His voice, thick and rich like his glow, felt like it was speaking directly to my heart, making its way through the thick cobwebs that have grown in my mind. After a moment of pause as I woke myself out of the trance he brought me into, I helpfully asked where he lives. The man gave me a look that showed disappointment, but he replied anyways, in a dismal tone.
“I live in your heart, but I am lost. I don’t know how to get there. Can you help me?”
It was then that I finally recognized the man. I was unable to identify him at first, despite being the one who knows him best. I suppose I haven’t paid attention to him for a while, for we aren’t as close as we used to be. He has definitely changed from the way I last remember him, but for sure, there he was, lying there pitifully on the ground at my feet: my soul.