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When something is perfect, where are you supposed to head to then?
“What I’d like to say to you is this,” the Gatekeeper said, emphatically advising me. Or perhaps warning me. “When you have a plate on top of your head it’s best not to look up at the sky.”
There everyone had their own shadow. There was a war then. I can’t rightly recall who was fighting whom.
“Your heart gets rigid?” You thought about this. “It feels like there’s a string deep in my heart that’s snarled and tangled and I can’t unravel it. The more I try to untie it, the more tangled and balled up it gets. So tight I can’t deal with it. You’ve never had that happen to you?”
A dark heart will, sooner or later, die and perish.
“I don’t know what happened, but I think the town is trying to stop you. Using all kinds of methods to do so.” “Am I that important to the town? That it would go to such lengths to stop me?” “Of course it would. I mean, it’s like you’re the one who created this town.”
“So my role is—?” “Is to take those souls—or echoes of the heart—calm them, and eliminate them. It’s not a job that shadows can do. Only real people, with real emotions, have empathy.”
“That’s where their wisdom helps. The town has set up a psychological enclosure of fear around the pool. Which is far more effective than a fence or railing. Once fear takes root in your heart it’s not easy to overcome.”
“And the town uses fear as one method to maintain that balance?” “Exactly.
“I’m scared out of my wits. It’s frightening just to think about it. But we’ve already decided. Aren’t you the one who created this town in the first place? You have that much power. Just a while ago you were able to push through that hard wall right in front of you. Am I right? What’s important is conquering fear.
“I think there’s something about you, or about something you’re carrying around in your heart, that he’s concerned about.” Something I’m carrying around in my heart, I repeated to myself.
It’s simple. Your heart is like a bird flying through the sky. The wall can’t prevent your heart from flapping its wings.
It’s true—the heart is something hard to comprehend, what’s hard to comprehend is the heart.
