It was a fine morning when the Sun and Lake were talking with each other.
Using a strange language. The language without the words.
It was a pure language of enthusiasm, discovery and love.
It was a language that every mindful creature knew how to speak.
It was a language that every mindful creature knew how to interpret.
It was a language that every mindful creature knew how to celebrate. So here goes the celebration, between the Sun and the Lake:
“I’m seeing the beginning of me within you,” The Sun said to the Lake.
“I’m the one who always had you,” replied the Lake,
“But you’re seeing me this morning :p.”
“But nonetheless, it’s a good omen (y),” added the Lake.
“Oh, you’re very much like me, little Lake,” said the Sun.
“Nope, you’re somewhat like me,” replied the Lake, “Don’t you see my reflection within you?”
And the wise Sun was speechless.
The little Lake was speaking the language he knew well.
It was the language of the soul.
It was the language that radiated the ambition and the enthusiasm, of things being created with love and purpose, and as part of a search for something believed in, desired and being achieved.
“All things are one,” whispered the Lake, “Celebrating the warmth of the Sun within it.”
“All things are one,” received the Sun, “Celebrating the beginning of the Lake within him.”