Heart's Gourd

I found the gourd in the heart of the forest, where the trees and vines and thick plush ground covering reached it richest earthly whole.  The rustling leaves and the bustling animals whispered the gourd's dream into my ear, telling me it's location until I saw it, red, lumpy, pulsating in power upon the gnarled roots of the heart's tree.

I picked it up and it spoke to me in a dry, croaking, closed up voice: "I am old and alone.  Great licks of time are captured inside me.  Can you help me?"

The old gourd fell again into it's silent pulsating, yearning and enticing me to help.  "What can I do for you old gourd?" I asked.  "I am young and haven't the experience to help you."

The gourd of the heart of the forest said only this: "I have never cracked and thus the light from within has never shone, yet if I crack I don't know if all of my power will rush out of me," and then fell into it's deafening, pulsating silence once again.

I sat down on the gnarled roots of the heart's tree and studied the old gourd for some time, at a loss of what to do.  "If I crack it open," I thought, "the gourd may lose its pulsating beauty.  But in it's present state, it cannot seem to express all that it knows from its 'great licks of time.'"  As I handled the gourd, the promise of what was within became irresistible.  And, in my inexperienced, youthful way, I decided to crack it open.

I lay the gourd of the heart of the forest down upon the gnarled roots of the heart's tree and, may the great Spirit of the wood forgive me, I brought my blade down upon its tough, old husk.  Once!  Twice!  Thrice!  The pulsating of the old gourd seem in turmoil at this happening, bracing for the unknown experience of....  four times - CRACK!

A streaming light of knowledge and love lifted from within the gourd of the heart of the forest, engulfing my body and mind like a fairy tale never ending and never beginning, the hero in constant, triumphant peril and the damsel in never-ending, alluring danger.  Rainbows of life glittered upon fields of impossible, mystical creatures blowing blue bubbles into shapes that gravity could never express.  Waterfalls of loves and desires cascaded from the old gourd in a rush of worldly passion so close and forgiving, yet totally forbidden.  It shuddered and whirred and howled in a clear, rich voice memories of ages long unforgotten, reasons and explanations of ideas inconceivable, and theories of life so extravagant as to make the entire forest vibrate in accord.

As the gourd continued, I looked about the heart of the forest and saw that it was rustling and bustling as before, but it's richness had been enhanced by the expoundings of the gourd.  Indeed the synchronicity and synergy of its vibrations integrated into the forest so well that the sun shone, the trees smiled, the water babbled and the animals chattered with augmented wonder.  And the gourd lay on the gnarled roots of the heart's tree, supported by the heart of the forest, shinning its great light and wisdom from its new crack smiling in release and renewed vigor.



Creative Commons License
This work by Analog Soul is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.