Black Dawn
Chapter I: The Ignorant
From the distant mountains arose the sun, looming radiantly before Creation, bestowing it yet another day. Birds, roused from serene slumber, chirped harmoniously, engulfing the land in sweet symphony. Mothers awoke their unwilling children, farmers made preparations for a productive new day, travelers began the continuation of their journeys. All was well and peaceful about the world. It was within the mass's presumption that life would maintain its normality, and that, after another day of play and labor, they would again return to the world of dreams, secure in rest, that one of their greatest faults lie. None could foresee what cataclysmic events awaited them.
Miroku was the first of the band to awaken, finding it his obligatory duty to prepare for the others a hearty breakfast, or at least put forth a sincere effort in the attempt of doing so. It was, in all truth, mainly in favor of the fair Sango that he did this, as multiple other deeds, for he desired more than anything else to redeem himself within her eyes, to repent for what perverse actions he had displayed in the past, and to prove the sincerity of the love he harbored for her.
He approached her hesitantly, captivated by her serene beauty. Kneeling tenderly at her side, he softly pressed his lips upon her cheek, and a slight blush befell both. "Someday, my love," he whispered into her ear in sorrowful lament. "I shall kiss you outside of dream". Then, with a final glance of reverence upon her, he departed into the wilderness to gather the components of their meal.
Much had occurred since the infancy of their journey. A task once seen as impossible had gradually become a daily labor, one that may be accomplished with perseverance and companionship. allies had been attained, enemies had been defeated, lives had been lost, countless battles had been fought, But the prevailing achievement within this tale was of love, the ever- perspiring passion lying within hearts, unspoken. But words were not necessary to express this emotion, for it was mutual, hidden inconspicuously behind timid smiles and reassuring glances.
Yet Miroku found a great multitude of difficulty in restraining this proclamation that he withheld. How could he present to this celestial entity known as Sango his love in a manner of grace and dignity, one that she was truly deserving of? What warmth may his unworthy body provide for her in embrace? What love may he provide for such a boundless heart?
Suddenly, he realized the cynic nature of his thoughts, and quickly discarded them with an optimistic smile. He beheld in awe the path that lie before him, the crimson cherry blossoms hanging vibrantly about, the emerald grass swaying to and fro with each passing zephyr, the vast and bountiful sky that loom overhead. Approaching a nearby tree, he withdrew a cherry, smiling tenderly into it. "Ne'er the beauty of Mother Nature shall surmount to that of my beloved" he proudly proclaimed.
Why, such joy befell him in the bliss of her thought that he ensued in song. His voice was, politely stated, quite rasp, and he sung somewhat under his breath, yet the creatures about managed to deceiver it well, and were enticed by the harmonious melody:
"What is a dove, plucked of its wings, And of the siren that no longer sings? What is a sky without an ocean of blue, And of the promise that is not true?
What is a tree, disposed of its leaves, And of the sunset that one never sees? What is a melody that cannot be heard, And of the bee, separated from bird?
What is a night, deprived of moon, And of the beat, played without tune? What is a garden without its green, And of the beauty that cannot be seen?
What is a life, without its bliss, And of the lips that never have kissed? What is a heart without another to share, And of the love that is not there?"
And so, still in song, he resumed his task with the sole motivation of bringing what happiness he may to the one whom would never return his love. ****************************************************************************
It was with a slight tingling sensation that Sango was stolen from slumber. She sat wearily up, softly caressing where the diminishing feeling had been afflicted. How odd it felt, she thought, this foreign emotion overwhelming her. It was as if the ardor of countless hearts had congregated solely within her cheek, bestowing her a magnificent and unprecedented love, unbound by any time or space. "My dreams," she sighed. "seem to accompany me in wake." Thus it faded, gradually becoming nothing more than a sweet memory.
All seemed well about the camp. The refreshment of morning lifted much burden from her weary soul, the sun's radiance cleansing her of what sorrow she bore pertaining to certain circumstances. It was a time of rebirth, renewal, and opportunity, including that of confession. It was a hidden truth that held a certain affection, even love for the amorous monk, but had successfully withheld behind her stoic rejection. Though this may had worked sufficiently, the weight of guilt and longing depressing her heart grew greater each passing day. Why would a task so easy as expressing her true feelings present itself so difficultly?
Upon this thought, she noticed the absence of the one whom occupied her mind. Gazing upon the abandoned blanket adjacent to the deceased fire, then to the fellowship who still claimed occupation to theirs, she realized that this moment was opportune in putting to rest this troubling burden.
Summoning forth what valor she may, she ventured forth into the wilds of uncertainty, in pursuit of love, repentance, and a man named Miroku.
It must had been hours, she decided, that she had remained in trek. The journey was tiresome and uneventful, yet she absolutely refused to abandon her ambition. She had to express to him her truths while time yet remained, permitting not even the extravagant beauty surrounding her distraction.
It was then that her ears detected a faint voice in the distance. Slowly, she followed it, ever so careful not to alarm its source. With every step she took, her heart grew wild and untamed, pleading to be spoken. She beheld the figure of her longing, her beloved Miroku there upon the path, picking cherry blossoms from an overlooking tree. His tranquil aura and jovial smile set ease to her fluttering heart, seemingly beckoning her from the shadows and into his warm embrace. Though frightened, she approached him with a fierce determination.
"Do you pick cherries?" she bashfully asked, unable to utilize any other words.
"I do," replied he. "The most exquisite in all the land."
"Are they sweet?" she inquired fervently, her breast aflame in intensity.
"Sweet is but a word, and does not suit the eloquence that they are truly deserving of. No tongue may address them within a worthy manner, despite what words of praise they may conceive."
"Are they bountiful?" her will solely concentrated upon containing her passion.
"Bountiful and precise with every spring, awaiting baskets to occupy and stomachs to florish, and if their supply becomes meager, there are always more resting upon the trees."
She gazed longingly into his eyes, softly weeping in joy. With each tear trickling down her blushing cheeks, her heart was converging with his.
"May I have one?" she choked.
"All that I may offer." he, too, now engaging in tears.
He whisked her into his arms, sweeping her soul from the confines of despair and into the bliss of Paradise itself. It could not be counted how many hardships they wreaked upon each other, how many sorrows their silence had delivered, how many words they desired to say, but none were no longer needed, for she was, and would forever remain, tenderly within his arms. All seemed well and peaceful about the world.
Chapter I: The Ignorant
From the distant mountains arose the sun, looming radiantly before Creation, bestowing it yet another day. Birds, roused from serene slumber, chirped harmoniously, engulfing the land in sweet symphony. Mothers awoke their unwilling children, farmers made preparations for a productive new day, travelers began the continuation of their journeys. All was well and peaceful about the world. It was within the mass's presumption that life would maintain its normality, and that, after another day of play and labor, they would again return to the world of dreams, secure in rest, that one of their greatest faults lie. None could foresee what cataclysmic events awaited them.
Miroku was the first of the band to awaken, finding it his obligatory duty to prepare for the others a hearty breakfast, or at least put forth a sincere effort in the attempt of doing so. It was, in all truth, mainly in favor of the fair Sango that he did this, as multiple other deeds, for he desired more than anything else to redeem himself within her eyes, to repent for what perverse actions he had displayed in the past, and to prove the sincerity of the love he harbored for her.
He approached her hesitantly, captivated by her serene beauty. Kneeling tenderly at her side, he softly pressed his lips upon her cheek, and a slight blush befell both. "Someday, my love," he whispered into her ear in sorrowful lament. "I shall kiss you outside of dream". Then, with a final glance of reverence upon her, he departed into the wilderness to gather the components of their meal.
Much had occurred since the infancy of their journey. A task once seen as impossible had gradually become a daily labor, one that may be accomplished with perseverance and companionship. allies had been attained, enemies had been defeated, lives had been lost, countless battles had been fought, But the prevailing achievement within this tale was of love, the ever- perspiring passion lying within hearts, unspoken. But words were not necessary to express this emotion, for it was mutual, hidden inconspicuously behind timid smiles and reassuring glances.
Yet Miroku found a great multitude of difficulty in restraining this proclamation that he withheld. How could he present to this celestial entity known as Sango his love in a manner of grace and dignity, one that she was truly deserving of? What warmth may his unworthy body provide for her in embrace? What love may he provide for such a boundless heart?
Suddenly, he realized the cynic nature of his thoughts, and quickly discarded them with an optimistic smile. He beheld in awe the path that lie before him, the crimson cherry blossoms hanging vibrantly about, the emerald grass swaying to and fro with each passing zephyr, the vast and bountiful sky that loom overhead. Approaching a nearby tree, he withdrew a cherry, smiling tenderly into it. "Ne'er the beauty of Mother Nature shall surmount to that of my beloved" he proudly proclaimed.
Why, such joy befell him in the bliss of her thought that he ensued in song. His voice was, politely stated, quite rasp, and he sung somewhat under his breath, yet the creatures about managed to deceiver it well, and were enticed by the harmonious melody:
"What is a dove, plucked of its wings, And of the siren that no longer sings? What is a sky without an ocean of blue, And of the promise that is not true?
What is a tree, disposed of its leaves, And of the sunset that one never sees? What is a melody that cannot be heard, And of the bee, separated from bird?
What is a night, deprived of moon, And of the beat, played without tune? What is a garden without its green, And of the beauty that cannot be seen?
What is a life, without its bliss, And of the lips that never have kissed? What is a heart without another to share, And of the love that is not there?"
And so, still in song, he resumed his task with the sole motivation of bringing what happiness he may to the one whom would never return his love. ****************************************************************************
It was with a slight tingling sensation that Sango was stolen from slumber. She sat wearily up, softly caressing where the diminishing feeling had been afflicted. How odd it felt, she thought, this foreign emotion overwhelming her. It was as if the ardor of countless hearts had congregated solely within her cheek, bestowing her a magnificent and unprecedented love, unbound by any time or space. "My dreams," she sighed. "seem to accompany me in wake." Thus it faded, gradually becoming nothing more than a sweet memory.
All seemed well about the camp. The refreshment of morning lifted much burden from her weary soul, the sun's radiance cleansing her of what sorrow she bore pertaining to certain circumstances. It was a time of rebirth, renewal, and opportunity, including that of confession. It was a hidden truth that held a certain affection, even love for the amorous monk, but had successfully withheld behind her stoic rejection. Though this may had worked sufficiently, the weight of guilt and longing depressing her heart grew greater each passing day. Why would a task so easy as expressing her true feelings present itself so difficultly?
Upon this thought, she noticed the absence of the one whom occupied her mind. Gazing upon the abandoned blanket adjacent to the deceased fire, then to the fellowship who still claimed occupation to theirs, she realized that this moment was opportune in putting to rest this troubling burden.
Summoning forth what valor she may, she ventured forth into the wilds of uncertainty, in pursuit of love, repentance, and a man named Miroku.
It must had been hours, she decided, that she had remained in trek. The journey was tiresome and uneventful, yet she absolutely refused to abandon her ambition. She had to express to him her truths while time yet remained, permitting not even the extravagant beauty surrounding her distraction.
It was then that her ears detected a faint voice in the distance. Slowly, she followed it, ever so careful not to alarm its source. With every step she took, her heart grew wild and untamed, pleading to be spoken. She beheld the figure of her longing, her beloved Miroku there upon the path, picking cherry blossoms from an overlooking tree. His tranquil aura and jovial smile set ease to her fluttering heart, seemingly beckoning her from the shadows and into his warm embrace. Though frightened, she approached him with a fierce determination.
"Do you pick cherries?" she bashfully asked, unable to utilize any other words.
"I do," replied he. "The most exquisite in all the land."
"Are they sweet?" she inquired fervently, her breast aflame in intensity.
"Sweet is but a word, and does not suit the eloquence that they are truly deserving of. No tongue may address them within a worthy manner, despite what words of praise they may conceive."
"Are they bountiful?" her will solely concentrated upon containing her passion.
"Bountiful and precise with every spring, awaiting baskets to occupy and stomachs to florish, and if their supply becomes meager, there are always more resting upon the trees."
She gazed longingly into his eyes, softly weeping in joy. With each tear trickling down her blushing cheeks, her heart was converging with his.
"May I have one?" she choked.
"All that I may offer." he, too, now engaging in tears.
He whisked her into his arms, sweeping her soul from the confines of despair and into the bliss of Paradise itself. It could not be counted how many hardships they wreaked upon each other, how many sorrows their silence had delivered, how many words they desired to say, but none were no longer needed, for she was, and would forever remain, tenderly within his arms. All seemed well and peaceful about the world.