THE RETURN OF A GREAT LOVE

I feel a great curiosity because almost every night, perhaps due to the exhaustion of my busy daily routine and my many existential problems, dreams of strange things, rather, I hear in my subconscious while I sleep, mysterious voices that speak to me. Just last night I heard the following; I get the impression that someone I don't know who it is, wants to tell me something in a kind of romantic riddle: “I recently saw the moon, our most beautiful fortune. How fortunate we are to possess a great and esteemed invaluable treasure, which we can all access, and without exception we can all see it. The blind come to her and observe her even more splendid, even they also observe the stars, and from them they cry out extremely beautiful words. How many medieval poets directed their songs to her, to our adorable maiden, to the lady of the nights, to the eternal lover? And she doesn't say anything, she just poses greedily to the eternal glorious inspiration that makes us declaim her, that makes us bless her and say a thousand things to the ladies that romanticism demands.

Who has not declared love before the beautiful light of the moon? Tell me how many poets have not written a thousand versions of this lady that our flattery claims? Odes and declamations, words full of passions are born from her, arise from her light full of beauty, in her continuity. I imagine, my love, you and I alone on the moon, as if it were true, ignoring gravity, holding hands and observing how beautiful its content must be, which would agitate our senses. We would sit face to face and, brushing our foreheads, caresses would emerge, spontaneous kisses would appear. The rising sensuality will arrive and definitely your dress will strip. And my clothing would remain far away and the very hot skins would claim us closer, and therefore your flesh would join mine in a loving dedication, the greatest determination. That would be my fortune, which would be my fantasy, the height of my desire. My love, love you there on the moon”

And these other kinds of statements that are repeated insistently every night: “I admire your walk, your sweetness and your charm. I admire the hair that dances eagerly and frolics on your white shoulders. I admire the triumphant shine of your precious eyes. I also admire your mouth, which is a dreamy spell, and I also admire your lips from where I want them to emerge eager and dreamy, the beautiful and also desired words, all covered in love. I admire your skin so smooth and delicate. Smooth, clean. So fine, tender and perfumed. I admire your white hands, perhaps silk, that invite a touch and a caress; to an admirable and tender delight that means touching your playful fingers; your beautiful fingers of frenzy. I admire even your powerful and defiant silence. That screams and expresses a wish longed for and forever expected. I admire your way of being so docile, fragile and tender. The way to make me feel extremely lucky. I admire that you are so beautiful and elegant. I admire your entire body that is unsurpassed beauty. Your adorable perfection and supreme deity. I admire your body so beautiful full of greatness. I admire above all things, your whole soul, your whole soul; whom I will admire for all eternity. I admire as I have never admired your love and my love as the only lasting truth.

“What a terrible disappointment that I received today. It was an unfathomable reality that came to my life, as the fateful moments arrive ruthlessly. How tortuous, how wild, atrocious and infamous they approach, all these torments. Without ceasing to dream I approached a path. I got closer to what I wanted was my destiny. Without ceasing to love, I drew hope with nostalgia guiding that path, with the certainty set in that destination. And along the way I received a blast of scorn. It poured into me, a contempt, a disappointment. I felt it of such size, I felt it of such a measure, that thus immediately dethroned a love of so many years. It was a fearsome disappointment that was present. The biggest disappointment that came to my life. I couldn't bear it anymore, I couldn't do anything anymore. I only dared to let that enormous disappointment that settled in my soul imprison me. I felt his very cruel disposition to make suffer. I felt that my life was taking over. I felt that some evil ones were coming to me; some wretched troubles that I evaded for so many years. But even so, my disappointment destroyed me.”

“I woke up one morning hoping to feel a look of silk, a look of charm. I wanted to feel next to me, a great look, a look that expresses and screams, that makes me forget my crying. Your silk glances are an ode to beauty. The eloquent apology that expresses a thousand feelings. Your looks provide the comfort that shows that there is a great joy in the silk of your eyes, in those your eyes so beautiful, full of beauty. A silk look is what I need. A silk look is what comforts me, it's all I want, it's all I long for. Just a silk look that gives me the joy of contemplating your exquisite love. That is why this morning when I look at your eyes I discover in them a look of silk. The tender look of spring. The exquisite gaze that gives away everything in my sight. Your gaze of a thousand consolations that makes me so happy. Now I can die calm, now I can die graceful because I have seen a look of silk. I will be a man forever lucky, a man forever adorned with the look that falls in love and that stays forever.

“My reality is coming from a distant past. A past that I rode on golden mounts. A past that housed the brightness of a spring. The past that I long for today, in a gloomy present, the same one that remained in a trapped dream. And it is in that dream that I find myself lost. Trapped in their nets, and in that face that I look at. It is my dream that gives me love and tenderness. The dream in which I contemplate her, the one that drives me mad, of being lost in a dream, and that dream is gone. Already my life is saddened, my dream has left. He walked away taking my life completely. The dream torments me, because with it love has also gone and leaves my soul alone, lost and fearful. It is no longer a lost dream, today it is a tormented dream. I am lost in a dream. I don't know where he has gone. He got lost in the prelude of an eternal time. And in that great time, I don't look at you in the distance. I feel you far away, I can't see you near this room. I torment myself and go crazy; because you have not returned to my dream. I'm lost in a dream, lost in the glorious past. I am lost in a dream, in my dream I am lost. And this dream today already destroys my calm. Tears my feelings and my tenderness. Unhappy because in my dream you have already left."

But actually what left me even more puzzled was what I will present below. It was, without a doubt, a suffering felt by someone I would like to know, of course, who it is, although I imagine it is someone very close to me, or someone who is about to come into my life. Although thinking about it, it has happened several times that the phone rings and no matter how many times I ask who is speaking, no one answers, but he stays on the line as if waiting for I don't know what: "In the great void that covered that room, the ringing was heard of the telephone. The noise immediately invaded that lonely room, which at that time witnessed extreme silence. What a heavy silence it felt. Behind the horn, the silence was heard slowly, extended to the expressions, combined with a breath that escaped from a mouth that, hidden, said nothing. Immediately, the denied words were sheltered with the stunning sound that betrayed the absence. The phone was silent, that silence that expressed glory. It was there, I felt it. It was his breath, that sacred modular that was here to stay. He managed to hide a thousand voices in the silence, shelter the smiles, the caresses that came in the reigning darkness. He wanted the sound to be heard, the silence to be drenched with a superficial way of giving away a quiet caress.

He continued, covering with raptures the poems of his soul, they that day after day expressed love in all its ways of presenting themselves. The love that stole the sounds from silence. She lived in silence, her dream, her life. He caressed her in silence, even with a few recent kisses that he felt riding on his mouth. It was the skin felt between his fingers that went crazy to keep playing. It was the cooing of the desire to feel her by his side, which made that silence hidden on the phone make him feel happy. He wanted the phone to ring again. He felt her there, it was the most sublime way to feel her by his side. He needed to feel her in that silence that gave him an encounter with happiness. The verses arose from the soul, from that dreamy soul that discovered in a perfect aroma, the softness of the petals of a rose that one afternoon took possession of her. A rose in love that screams a forbidden love, the love that was lived, that love that even if it was denied, was a heartfelt love. The words came lonely, but they left their traces.

They betrayed the petty suffering that took possession of a spirit and a heart to wither them. The rhymes that they wanted to shout in silence were embodied. The charged air of the night did not allow one to breathe, it was that anguish of knowing her there, so close and so far, which caused that hint of madness. He wrote her life in the arms of his poems, when the ringing of the phone screamed desperately that there was her fragrance, her sweetness, her charming smoothness. There was that sound in the silence. He lifted the phone's horn and listened to what deafened him, that perfect silence from her beautiful lips. The silence of eyes that sighed to detail a sincere look. It was the silence that cried out a lullaby, that settled safely in a life dedicated to her. It was love that on that night claimed a space. The one who asked with those silent screams, to let it be felt. It was the love that came in that long silence that was heard behind the phone. The rhythm of breathing sang immortal melodies, they fired the firmament, the great, the stupendous. It was his mouth that felt so close. It was her white teeth trapped in a silver thread, who nibbled her mischievous tongue that, excited, said nothing. The eyes were in that darkness, I could see them resting on a virgin there at the table. I felt her silence and looked at her, felt her, touched her in the extension of a continium that claimed solitude to house the souls that love each other.

The silence grew as did the love. Silence emanated from the soul, that perennial softness that allowed itself to be caressed while it arrived with the phone. Why didn't he say anything? Because words were not necessary, absolutely nothing needed to be said. Those words would be unnecessary. They would be the words that were left over in a life, in a world, in a love. The silence said it all, it shouted to the four winds that it wanted to be there, that it wanted with great longing, to be felt in the vast night, which took away the charm of a star. Why didn't he speak? Because I no longer needed to say anything, since everything was said in a silence that overflowed a breath in an I love you. He was there, he felt her, he touched her, he loved her. It crossed his senses, that silence palpated in the delicate night that made itself felt strongly, in a universe that had two owners. Two beings that remained refugees in a blessed silence. I looked at her in the present that I felt was already there, I wanted her in a memory, in some blessed plans. In the future it would be full. The silence ceased to be felt to give way to the dancing wavering of the hanging phone. He remained static, still feeling her in that delicious fragrance that came with the silence, that softness of rose petals. That night came with silence, the cry of a love that is felt.

I return to my reality. It's Saturday, exactly six in the morning. The alarm on my cell phone rings and I wake up with a start, I want to curse her for so much noise; but I reconsider and get up, I conceive that it is the most sensible thing to do. Not even why curse it, if it doesn't ring it's well known that I'll have to continue sleeping until noon. I take off my pajamas, wrap myself in a white towel and go to the bathroom to take a short shower. I stand in front of the mirror, the first thing I see is my matted hair and faded makeup spread all over my face. I make a disapproving gesture and mentally make a self-criticism: "I should have cleaned my face and combed before going to bed, so I wouldn't be disapproving of myself right now." Then I notice my slender figure. She is a harmonious body, long dark brown hair almost to her waist. Despite the outdated makeup, my face still shows its angelic touch with expressive eyes and full lips.

I'm angry! Last night I had a fight with my sister Sofía and my friend Evelin. When one says that they have had a fight with someone, that sets off an alarm, it attracts attention very powerfully and the million dollar question is: why? The viewer wants to know the cause of the conflict, which must be of great weight and have a coherent motive, otherwise, according to his judgment; there is a risk of being classified as a bad person or scoundrel, and may even be accused of many more defects. Most people walk around, taking the power to qualify the reasons why one should be angry and why not. In front of this mirror I am remembering the matter and I feel very angry, in fact, the more I think about it, the more indignant I become, and if someone were to tell me that I am making a drama out of nonsense, I am sure that I would get even more angry.

I'm on vacation, I've finished school and I'm waiting for the graduation date, which will be in fifteen days. Yesterday afternoon we arrived at this small town called “Pozo Azul”, with the intention of staying eight days. At night, after having rested for a while, the three of us organize ourselves, we dress in a special way, we apply party makeup and we brush our hair leaving it very straight; we were excited looking forward to a very fun night. We bought drinks to share a while and were joined by four friends from the village. The celebration was just beginning, taking into consideration that we had only introduced ourselves. I went to the bathroom to touch up my makeup, then went out to the balcony and rejoined the group. I was wearing a skin cream, which I had applied from my shoulders to my hands. I removed the gold ring from the ring finger of my left hand, placed it inside a glass vase on the balcony railing, while the cream dried to put it back in its place. There were many glasses and Evelin needed one, and she precisely approached to take the glass where my ring was. He miscalculated and instead of grabbing the glass he accidentally threw it into the void. I watched in amazement as the glass fell onto the pavement and grass, breaking accordingly.

- What lack of care! You knocked over the glass and there was my ring" I claimed something annoyed.

“Only you can think of putting a ring inside a glass. Let's go look for it. he yelled.

We ran down the stairs, the house was three stories. Evelin was the first to arrive. The glass was shattered on the pavement and part of the grass. The place was totally dark, we turned on the cell phone flashlight, we searched thoroughly and found nothing. Then Sofia appeared to help us, but to no avail. The ring disappeared as if by magic. I got too angry and faced with their arguments that it was just a simple ring, I had an argument with both of them. I gave free rein to my impulsive spirit, took my little backpack, organized it and told them that at dawn I would return home, and here I am; finishing bathing while they sleep.

I have dressed in a simple way with jeans, a white blouse and tennis shoes. I grab my backpack and head towards the street. I found a restaurant that had just opened and waited for a breakfast of scrambled eggs and sausage, coffee, and bread to be prepared for me. After breakfast I feel better, the memory of my bad night was left behind and I take the opportunity to take a tour of the town and observe the changes it has had, since I was a child I had not returned. Its name, as I expressed it, is “Pozo Azul”, because it is located on the banks of the river, which has a very wide front and its water is always blue; giving the appearance of being a huge swimming pool.

I stop at a site of old houses to observe their structures and to contemplate the great variety of gardens that are at their entrances. Orchards have always caught my attention and I take the opportunity to explore plants that I don't know. The route, which at first I thought would be a short walk, has taken up a lot of my time. Now I go to the port in order to return to my town. You can only reach this town where I live by boat, and the trip takes four hours. The anchorage is very lonely, I barely see two boats tied to a post. I ask a man who is on the shore washing some tools, about the next boat that will leave and he informs me that they only do it in the morning hours, and that they had all left; that perhaps in the afternoon more will come out; but I'm not sure that it really is.

― It can't be! I've been late for touring the town. I mumbled quietly.

I know that there is a trail that is used by the miners who work in the mountains, and that it serves as a shortcut to reach my town; I decided to go down that path. I walk to the edge of the town and I meet an old man who, with his rough hand, holds an ax and tries to split a piece of firewood.

"Good morning," I speak to him in a loud voice, because he gives me the impression that he is very focused on his task.

"Good morning girl, what do you need?" He smiles, puts down the rustic tool and arranges the piece of firewood that he has just broken, on top of others that are properly cut to the same size and arranged. They give the impression of being cigarettes in their case. He is a very nice gentleman, his face is full of furrows and a smiling expression; It shows that he is a charismatic and helpful old man.

―I need to know where I can find the trail entrance to get to Playa - Yacumen.

I live in a small town called Playa – Yacumen. The name "Playa" is due to the fact that it is on the banks of the river and along it there are several beaches; The "Yacumen" is due to the name of an indigenous person who was the first inhabitant who began to cultivate the land and dedicate himself to livestock; This is the story that the resident grandparents of the place have always told.

― Will you go alone or accompanied? He asks me curiously.

"Alone," I reply.

―You can't take the trail by yourself, it's very dangerous. He looks at me with an expression of astonishment and is silent. So I insisted.

"I have to arrive today." I stare at him while I wait for the required information.

―It's very dangerous, she can get lost, she runs the risk of being bitten by a snake. How old are you? What's it called?

―My name is Jade Rivera, I'm almost eighteen years old. Don't worry, everything will be fine.

“Good name for such a stubborn girl. - He smiles again. Despite being so early, sweat is running down his forehead. Chopping wood is hard work. I want to sit down and talk to him and listen to his experiences as an older person, but after thinking about it I remembered that I was already late because of the tour I took through the town.

"I have to get home today, and I also want to see the jungle," I affirm confidently.

―You can meet miners who, although they are sensible, you have to leave in doubt the danger you may run if you meet someone unscrupulous. ―He explains how difficult the path is and tells me about the dense jungle, bugs and other dangers.

This is how the elderly are, surly and prevented by so many experiences they have lived. After asking me about the reason for wanting to leave and not getting any information and not getting me to give up my intentions, he explains where to find the entrance to the trail to get to Playa - Yacumen. After which he gives me his blessing.

"Your shoes will be damaged!" he says pointing to my tennis shoes.

I don't think so, they are of good quality. I thank you very much for the information _ I exclaim.

I can see the look on his face through a disapproving sneer. I say goodbye to the old man and go to one of the nearest stores to buy snacks to eat on the trail. I bought three sweet cakes with which I hope to get enough energy, three packets of chips, a bottle of soda and a bottle of water. It is exactly ten in the morning and I have arrived at the entrance to the trail. At this moment I'm already calm, I don't conceive of any inconvenience for the girls, I could go back to the house where they are; but the possibility of traveling the trail appears to me as a challenge and a new adventure. It's a persistent desire that leaves me no choice.

I start the walk in high spirits. I feel impetuous and daring, I believe that this trail is there to be traveled by me. I concentrate on reviewing the old man's instructions in my mind, I do accounts with the schedules; he told me that if it goes well I can do it in three hours. I guess, taking into account some rest times, I can get there in four hours. I am not used to walking through jungles, but I am in good physical condition since I train in the school basketball team, and I also exercise three times a week.

The path is clear and clean. It pays me a lot to walk and at times I also run; I am dazzled looking at the trees and their shapes, they have a very pleasant aroma. There is also a smell similar to that of moss in humid areas, I find stretches that give off floral aromas. There is a tree that repeats itself too much, it has a very particular shape and reminds me of the grinder with which my mother mixes the chocolate. There are also very tall trees with formidable circumferences, I wonder: "How many years does a specimen of these need to reach such dimensions?" The jungle is definitely very welcoming, I feel happy and at ease.

The fauna that I have found has a great variety of species, so far I only knew specimens of the psittacine family, such as parakeets and parrots. There are exotic birds, their feathers seem to be made by brushstrokes of a perfect range of colors. Among them, an excessively beautiful one stands out, it has gray plumage in most of the body, the neck and the tips of the wings are black, and white spots stand out on them. Its main feature is a crimson color on its wings and when it flies, it gives the impression of being a giant butterfly; I also notice in that bird, the shape of a fan opening and closing.

In my poetic appreciations I think: "It's so beautiful, it seems that God made it and took enough time to polish it!". I take several photos of it with my cell phone, fortunately it is calm, it moves slowly from one branch to another making it easier to focus on. There are tiny frogs that have various colors, they look like small handicrafts. The squirrels turn out to be a sight, they are docile and they are always eating. When I pass close to them they look at me sideways and remain immutable in their business. I finally met the “cicadas”, they look like giant flies, and they make a sound that pleases me, there are many of them and it is as if they were creating a symphony; they do it non-stop, that sound reverberates in my mind and when they suddenly become silent, I feel the strange sensation of continuing to listen to their eternal and high-sounding concert.

The negative is that there are too many mosquitoes circling and circling above me, I perceive it as if they do it shamelessly; I have a small branch and I have to constantly scare them away. I didn't take the precaution of buying mosquito repellent in town. Well, I hadn't the foggiest idea of ​​what one was up against in the jungle. I am also bothered by some branches and bushes that, when I come into contact with them, mistreat my arms, for that reason I already have tiny cuts on my skin. I looked for the headphones and put on a Mozart melody that I have stored in my cell phone's memory to contrast with nature, this makes the trail more enjoyable. As I advance, the path becomes confusing, clear stretches appear, without weeds, which then lead nowhere; it is difficult afterwards to find the main path.

I look at the clock and I've already walked for two hours. I find myself in a space where three paths converge and without the slightest idea of ​​where each of them leads. At this moment, I remember my friend Ariel, who is so smart, and I wonder: “Which option would he take?” I know that I am facing a vital decision, I must choose one of the three, this is decisive. I could be risking my life! "Could it be that I am very dramatic?" From my logic I chose the cleanest path, I guess it's the right one. Farther on it became narrower and narrower, until I came to a place where the trees are close together and the earth too wet. I wanted to turn back, but I have lost my way back. I just discovered that I am lost and looking for the exit I get even more lost. I have stopped to rest for several minutes and I think about the possibility of calling the girls to let them know that I am lost, so that they look for someone who knows the trail and comes to my aid. But thinking about it, I prefer to manage alone to find the way out and not go through the criticism and ridicule of my sister and my friend. I am confident that later I will be able to position myself and move forward. But time passes and I have not been able to orient myself, I only see trees and stubble, no sign of the path. I begin to hesitate with anguish and I must accept that I am afraid.

I have decided to do what I tried so hard to put off. I have no other choice, I have to call my family and let them know. I take my cell phone to call my sister Sofía and let her know, I also want to call my mother to update her on my adventure. "My God! What will my mom say? Doña Rosa is very angry. I mean my mother, who has a strong character. I usually call her by her name when she's angry, and when I see her calm and complacent I call her “Rosita". What an unpleasant surprise, my cell phone has no signal, I can't make the communication. I try several times from different places and the signal is still difficult. I stopped insisting, I know that the only option I have left is to continue trying to find a way out of this jungle. I look at the time on my cell phone and it is two in the afternoon, I have four hours in the jungle, I have walked too much, I am lost; and to top it off, my cell phone has only 30% battery charge. I am finding rocks and ravines through