A sound, like a breath of old wind, creaks, its way past familiar heavy oak beams.the fire crackling soft sentiment,bringing a cherry warm to the room. And there it is once more, the corner has returned to sit aching bones into the cushions by the fire pit.
She taps out her pipe, refilling it with dark cherry rich tobacco. Taking a moment to curse her age in silent muttered words of an old tongue, she lights the pipe bowl with a taper, flicks her wrist to extinguish the flame and draws heavily. Exhaling a blue grey plume she speaks softly to no one. Letting her words drift amongst the crackling fires and flames that lick the logs.
” love does not care, black skinned or white, green or pink, it just does not care. Love has no guidelines, no concept of rules. It does not worry over height, weight, gender or nationality. And yet love is more devastating to the human than many other species, even there, love crashes the boundaries of morality and socially accepted normality”
She lets a cackle rumble through the room, as if you are there with her listening to wisdom. With the age of a world she draws another plume of the sickly blue grey smoke, watching it swirl away before continuing her words.
” Humans, they make rules for themselves, to follow, even though they break the rules if someone is high enough born to have a silver spoon, but yet, these rules as Edward Teach once said are more like guidelines. Society is as ass, if it thinks it can control the goddess’s plans for love! The cosmos itself would laugh and baulk at such a notion. Though humans the world over seem to want these rules, they ignore them as they see fit. I wonder if the goddess laid outvrules would humans be so eager to follow them?”
” Simple truths are hard enough for some to understand. Let alone follow, or abide by the obvious truths that stare people in the face. The freedom they find when a partner lets go the leash, is so addictive to them like sugar or nicotine. But when that same human in all its joyful freedom is faced with a truth, a love that crosses a boundary, they run and hide like children. Falling into some self obscured trap of their own making, and there do we find those who fear societies anguish. ”
Lighting a taper from the fire, delights the bowl and enjoys the plumes of cherry scented smile for a moment, as if contemplating the truth at hand. Extinction of the flame as the taper is clicked once more, and she rests back in the seat.
” life and love itself would be so easy if people understand that rules are made to be broken. But instead like scared children they throw temper tantrums, issue self recriminations, even in some foolish and truly abysmol rants of what can only be described as abuse, which is hurled at the very love that is offered. The cosmos would not squander such a gift, unless it had it”s own agenda to accomplish.”
She tapped the dust and ashes from the pipe bowl. Slotting the item away in a pocket with an ease. Standing and smiling before stepping left and vanishing in a swirl of blue grey smoke. The scent of cherries fills the nose for but a moment. Then silence reigns in that little room once more.