…at the CAVE

The flicker of burning sticks aglow in the little cave—small enough to house two lost travelers; not to mention cold sojourners.

The cave had served home for countless passers who happened to discover the stone curvature behind the curtain water fall.

If only its walls bear eyes, they could have witnessed the love-making of the lovers who found a haven to give in to their desire after swimming the cold water.

If each stone had ears, it could have known the plots discussed by group of rebels who once escaped and found refuge when they were searched for scrutiny and hunt.

If each ash from burnt sticks had mouth, myriad secrets had been revealed and spread—both shallow and dirty, from trivial to those that could have changed history.

But caves could never possess eyes, ears or mouth, could they? That’s why they would always be a safe place to stay.

But, only if this cave, in particular, possesses senses, it could have noticed the difference of its newly-arrived occupants—distinct from the others who left memories silently fading as time passes.

This two came accompanied by rain of arrows, fell in the water fall with the morning drizzle. Both seemed men and both were peculiar: one hit by an arrow in the shoulder, the other almost drowned in the four-foot deep wavy water; the wounded saved the drowning.

They were silent for companions, they were cold for couples, yet, they connect intimately in a way no one could understand. In silence they communicate; not that they show obvious care with each other by tending their needs, rather with respect and unbroken tie like a deep-rooted pact.

Both faltered, claimed each side of the small cave, removed their shirts—each movement in harmony like an orchestrated movements of one man mirrored by another.

The taller and leaner man removed the arrow in his shoulder, blood and water flowed, a silent cry of agony; the smaller and thinner, coughed in his side of the cave—gasping for air to fill his lungs while it dries from the water, after almost drowning. Both sighed and leaned in the wall.

Moments passed, both began to shiver. The thinner man moved and picked the scattered pieces of dried sticks in the floor, and lit a fire out of them. But neither how — without matches, sticks nor stone?

The fire burned just enough to keep an isolated space warm for both of them.

“How’s your shoulder?” he managed to utter for the first time—breaking the silence.

No reply.

He then decided to cross the short distance when his query did not get an answer.

And if this cave had really possesses eyes even just during this once, it wouldn't have dared watch what happened next.