THE PAIN OF SEPARATION
She was always present in His presence; and yet there had been times when Shiva and Parvati were separated.Times, that constituted the nadir of Shiva’s life; the absolute pit of the universe itself. Shiva had looked to the skies from this pit and noted how an infinite canvas painted blue by His own hand, could turn melancholically into an equally infinite grey.
Thus it was, that whenever a lover looked to the skies in the anguish of a torn love, his cry would pierce straight into Shiva’s heart as a resonant and lethal arrow. And He had seen this story repeat itself not only with lovers whose names had become immortalised, but also those, whose tears had been shed unsung.
The same story happened across the sands of times, not only in deserts, but also in the mountains, the forests, across oceans and, as Shiva knew, sometimes, even beyond the planet.
With each story, He felt an immense upheaval, an immense empathy.
He had been the greatest Lover in the world.
Thus it was, that whenever a lover looked to the skies in the anguish of a torn love, his cry would pierce straight into Shiva’s heart as a resonant and lethal arrow. And He had seen this story repeat itself not only with lovers whose names had become immortalised, but also those, whose tears had been shed unsung.
The same story happened across the sands of times, not only in deserts, but also in the mountains, the forests, across oceans and, as Shiva knew, sometimes, even beyond the planet.
With each story, He felt an immense upheaval, an immense empathy.
He had been the greatest Lover in the world.
