There was a little girl who was floating on a flying carpet. Although she could see many different people she could never seem to get the carpet to slow down long enough or hover low enough for her to get a chance to talk to them. She had been through many strange and wonderful lands. When she was hungry or thirsty the carpet would slow down just long enough for her to get food from a merchant’s stall, pick something from a fruit tree or grab up a plate from a full table.
At night the girl would snuggle down on the carpet and fall asleep. The carpet would fluff around her, making a softer bed for her to lie on. The carpet always seemed to choose places with soothing noises at night, to comfort the little girl as she slept.
The little girl often felt sad and alone, for although the carpet took care of all her needs she had no one to talk to. She was curious about the families she saw doing things together and the lovers they occasionally came upon in the night. Sometimes, with the force of intense longing and great sorrow the little girl would cry. The carpet would fold around her and hold her gently then, rocking her, taking her higher into the clouds.
She tried to be happy with her life on the carpet, tried to be happy for the people she saw in these strange lands. But there was always this hunger that never seemed to go away. The deep pit of sadness that the carpet could never find a way to appease.
Yes, this story speaks volumes about the woman who’s words you are reading. Along with the capacity for great love and giving is a great sadness. Sadness that the love of her life is still to come – fear that when they arrive she’ll scare them away. Of course, if they’re easily frightened they’re probably not hers anyway.