Yauh E-Book

Alejandro Cuevas Sosa

• Herausgeber: Grosvenor House Publishing
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 91

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

Yauh is a man who looks for the secret of life and in his eternal search he transforms and integrates to the nature of diverse elements that he discovers in his trailed. In the trajectory, Yauh finds and discovers the human passions: anger, compassion, impatience, hate, love and, finally, his real identity. His way takes him finally to the knowledge of life by means of a woman's love, and of his missed parents, and this way he comes to the infinite, to the eternal. Ecologically universal, Yauh is an extraordinary and intuitive novel of love to nature.

Leseprobe

To Jacaranda Luna, with eternal love

CONTENTS

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Copyright

1

I did not understand if my dazzled eyes had lost the sight or they did not know how to see what was happening. Hesitant, I clung to the routine life from which I was fleeing and with the absurd intention of returning, I clumsy walked by where I believed was the road of return. It was in this way as I discovered that from the movement of my body beams of light emanated. My movements produced brightness. Thus, I needed to retreat or to go on, fleeing. It was not possible to stay immobile at that dark place to which I was pushed by the uncertainty of my existence. I could not avoid it. The more efforts I made to return I imagined myself more inside.

Just because of not feeling defeated again and aided by my scarce light, I tried to know where that tunnel would carry me off. At night, I arrived at its inner exit, and starting from that moment, I felt the strange sensation that I could be that which surrounded me and, at the same time, be myself. Dazed, I believed to be approaching to the infinite, as if I were, in fact, the infinite. Moreover, even more disturbing it was to suppose, then, that the infinite, more than distance or time, it is option, it is whole, it is all.

When I succeeded in leaving the tunnel, I found the birth of two roads. One of them seemed clear and easy to walk, while the other one, after a short distance, looked hidden and sinking behind a rock. Through this sidewalk, the twinkling of a greenish yellow radiance attracted me. When I surpassed the rock, an iridescent waterfall emerged in front of me. I ran until I arrived to the well formed in the base of the cascade, to get soaked from its luminous water. Because of the unlike breeze which sprinkled, I noticed that the liquid fall was not uniform, but rather infinity of isolated drops hastened to the void; they were cluster-shaped drops and clusters of multi-coloured drops.

I continued recognizing the surroundings and I perceived that the bell-shaped of the flowers of an aretillo transmitted certain nostalgia. Besides, the drops that grazed my lips had a moderate salted flavour and those that touched my skin made me cry. On high, crashing with the clouds, the radiance framed the moment in which the torrent came off from the earth: the waterfall flew. I wanted to climb but could not see how to arrive to such heights. All that I reached to glimpse was the silhouette of a leafy jacaranda. Their roots surged mighty, sticking to the rock and trapping it firmly while the ends sank in the little lagoon. Upon submerging, I began to feel a sudden and inevitable change: my body softened, until it became water. Yes, I ended up turning into a cluster, an insignificant cluster and, even worse, I caught its essence of salty sadness. I allowed myself to be sucked by the root and so I went up by its sap until I sprouted, in the branches of the crown, in the form of nectar of their purplish flowers. I felt as flying: the joyfulness of the jacaranda had invaded me. Not only did I lose the control of my body, but also the one of my mood.

Confused in those branches I discovered where the crown of light that enlightened the waterfall was coming from. Hundreds, thousands of millions of trembling fireflies gave origin to a spring of luminous water. Every time they emitted their hesitant light, from their eyes sprouted tears like lanterns and they were those that formed the water in clusters. The wisest fireflies, in order to counteract their sadness, approached to suck from the flowers of the jacaranda, which allowed me to speak to them.

— What world did my search bring me to?

— Which search? —they asked.

… I could only remember that the sensation that there is a point through which it is possible to penetrate and discover the most hiding of our secrets overwhelmed me. That my spirit poked, pore to pore, in all the corners of my body, until, without knowing what I did, I remained in the dark, I could not retain me and I escaped of myself. As if, I had fallen in a trap.

— But what place is this?

— The spaces of light —they said.

— Are these the spaces of light?

— Yes, these are.

— Where does this road take you?

— It leads to the space of origins.

— Does it lead to the space of origins? What is that?

— By any chance, do you know what your origin is?

— …

— If you are interested, here you can find that answer and perhaps others more.

— I would rather know why you are crying. I would not like to finish the same way you are.

By their silence, they reflected the doubt of whether they would tell me their story. Finally, they decided to do it. “We come from the firmament —they said—. The stars, fireflies of the Universe, are our mothers; that is why we share the twinkling of our light”.

But, why you are not with them? —I asked. “One time the youth of the Earth captured us, we got too close and because of the attraction of this planet it was impossible for us to return. Soon it began to rain and, from then on, the rain makes us sad because we understand that they are crying. You will have noticed that when it rains the rivers and the cascades, the lakes and the sea turn stormy, disturbed by the eternal pain of the stars that have lost their daughters, the fireflies”.

— It seems that there is no joyfulness inside you.

— If the nostalgia controls us, we will be at risk of remaining without light, that is why the jacarandas help us, but since they blossom only in the wintertime one should store nectar so that our longing for living lasts all year. We are victims, the same as you, from the close relationship that there is between the temptations and the freedom.

It was like a punishment. If going on meant to continue like a weak clustery drop and this way getting deeper in the most intimate part of that which surrounded me, I would rather not do it.

It was dawning. The first rays of the Sun, aggressive, reached me soon. I became transformed in vapour of water, invisible vapour that floated inattentive.

2

Although I had preferred to travel without a specific direction, it startled me that in the distance, the clouds got concentrated and I was thrown towards them by the wind. I felt, upon integrating me to its shaken vapours, an urgent call. It was about the implacable attraction that on the water the sterile sands exercise and the chronic thirst of the plants and of the animals of the desert: I was at imminent risk of being consumed by the dryness.

The clouds got crowded fearfully and upon crashing, caused aggressive lightning, preparing in this way the torrential precipitation that was coming. Mixed with the sound of the wind, like a warning, another hoarse and broken whistle was distinguished. Suddenly, without resisting to that call and when the density of the heap was so that we could stand neither the wait nor our turbulent vicinity, millions of clusters of drops rushed to the void. Thus, avoiding hurling myself through canyons and cliffs, I was confronted with the avidity of the sand dunes. For moments, I remained caught in the grottos, later, I felt myself confused in the agitation of rivers, lagoons and ephemeral wells. That way we alleviated, even for a short while, an urgent necessity.

During my uneven walk, I always heard, competing with the pounding of the storm, a hiss. As soon as I could, I tried to locate its origin, without succeeding. Just when I reached it, it remained quiet, to continue going farther away. Therefore, more and more, it took me towards the interior of the desert, until I felt its prisoner, at the mercy of its silent inhabitants.

When the storm was over, just silence remained, and I took refuge in the water that rested in a nest of yellowish and rough rock, an oscillating shade also protected me. Without expecting it, hidden in the silence the hiss exploded deafening: they were cicadas that produced it. With caution, I approached to the rickety shrub of oregano that offered its timid shade, in which they rested.

— Why do you live here? —I asked.

— It is because we are the sentries of the desert.

— To what is it due the insistence of your singing?

— It is necessary in order to alert all who inhabit the stuffy silence.

— But what happened here? Why is so much mystery due?

— Nobody no longer remembers —they said with soft voice, in contrast with their strident singing— that there was a time in which the Sun used to send solid rays; crystallized firebrands that made impossible to distinguish night from day.

My presence not only made reappeared the signal in order to soothe the aridity of the desert, but it also incited its thirsty inhabitants. Because of its harassing, I began evaporating.

— And how did the rest of beings of the Earth respond? —I asked them pretending serenity.

— They protested upon realizing they were invaded by the rain of solid rays, throwing them away of their territory. The rays in vain explained that their intention was not to bother, for that, they had to leave moving towards places less inhabitable and with a more extreme climate, until remaining confined in the deserts.

— How inhospitable territory they left to them.

— Resigned, they had to accept that they would never leave those regions. That is why the desert is a reserve, a reserve for undesirable beings. From that time on, the suns decided to deprive its rays of the solidity that was conform them and throw its essence all over the places.

Without being able to postpone more the calling of the dryness, the vapours again, in the shape of whirls of infuriated clouds, we rained on others or maybe on the same places in the desert. Later I became vapour again. I heard the hiss and located its origin; now they rested on a bisnaga. Under its protection, we continued our chat.

— And how did your drama finish?