One night outside her yurt an older man was passing by and heard the beautiful young women crying all alone at the edge of a field under a full moon, praying for the night to deliver someone to love her. The old man had often seen her walking in the village laughing with her friends she always seemed busy and happy he never once thought she might need someone to need her. He called to the girl in the moonlight scaring her a bit and asked her why she felt so alone, the girl replied unsure yet of who was in the brush, that even though she was surrounded by people no one understood her, no one would take charge of her, and more then anything she could imagine she wanted to have a strong wise man take her in hand and teach her and love her but more then that she wanted him to know her, really know her.
Hidden in the bush the man was afraid to speak or move for fear this was all a dream and pressing through the brush would push him through the veil and back into himself away from her. Back to days of watching this lovely girl from afar seeing her flounder but afraid to cast her the line of his wisdom knowing in the end when the final line is written we all lose everything we love and the crushing pain of death and harder agony of those who chose to flee will end every love, friendship or hatred on earth. No matter how close we get to other humans death will part us all, ending petty differences in an instant. Finely he was all alone to watch the pretty girls and dream but never draw nearer unless he could find the courage he needed to answer her desperate call with his real self. So hidden behind his walls he never imagined love, Until now, calling out again he cried to her that she was no mystery to him, for years he watched he tells her her favorite color is green and her eyes are brown and deep but flash gold in the sun, that when she is sick she likes to be alone, and that when she laughs really hard she snorts and more he told her his dreams of her in the future he seduced her with praise for her talents and she in turn began to bloom under the moonlight. At last pushing his had through the bush the sting of the branches relieved him surely he was awake or they would have parted for him like velvet curtains instead of resisting his motion as if to protect the damsel at the edge of the field, at the edge of discovery....
