The Lost Children II

“Tell me what you want child, tell me child and it will be yours. I have worked hard child to be able to make you this offer, this offer that so few are given. I sacrificed much so that I could lay at your feet all that I hoped you to have and I give it to you freely without asking anything in return other than acceptance. Is that not a true gift? Say something child, your silence wounds me. The blankness of your eyes speaks of your thought many miles from here. Do you think of the sun glittering on the clear waters of a deserted beach? Do you think of an icy wind whipping your skin into life? Do you think of the noise and colours of a city you have never seen or the sky lightening on a night that has seen no sleep. Do you think of love child? What do you think of, that gives your face such a look of sadness and foreboding? No danger lies ahead for you child, only the easiest path to happiness that I could give you.”
“Why did you make it so? You do me no service by giving me so much. Is not that which is of greatest value that for which we must give part of ourselves? It is not the purpose of only my life but of all lives to find something for which you are willing to give a living piece of yourself so that it may live forever and find life in all who look upon it. Only then do our works build the treasure of humanity higher. Our waking life is but a moment, but a moment of such beauty, such wonder and such power that not a single part of it should be wasted on passive acceptance. You asked me if I thought of love, a kind of love yes, I thought of purpose which is the love of one’s own life. To live with purpose is to love life with such force that part of your self becomes one with it and lives on the works you create forever. You cannot give another purpose, though you give with love, for it is your love and not theirs. You spoke of a true gift, but what the gift you give me truly is, is simply the ideal you hold of yourself. I thank you with all my heart for giving me what you think is your self, perfected, but what I want is you as you truly are. That is love. That is a true gift. All else is an abstraction, a rose hued looking glass through which to view the past.