She died.

Life... an empty word void of meaning. Hope? A mirage; the soft ripple of sweet water in an arid desert that, in fact, doesn't exist. Happiness? A horizon we sail towards but never reach. Life is meaningless.

Life is meaningless, and God is cruel. Why? Why did He give him everything, just to take it all away? Why did He build him a vast, comfortable castle high up in the clouds, just to slip its smooth, shiny floors from beneath his feet and send him plummeting down to the rough Earth? Not only that, but he had no time to take her with him; he had no time to say goodbye...

She was everything. She was the sun; radiating light and warmth into the cold darkness of his soul. She was the sea; drowning him in her deep love and affection. She was his star: guiding him through the vast, lonely iniquity of everyday life. She was his moon: vanquishing his shadowy ghosts with her calm, serene light. She was his life; and now that she was gone, he was dead.

What use is it to live? Why wake up in the morning if not to gaze upon her luminous face, kiss her tender lips and bathe in the warmth of her smile? Why sleep at night if not to rest his heavy head on her slender shoulder and his weary body in her tender arms? Why speak if he could not spill out his fears, worries, thoughts and every passing emotion into her bottomless well of understanding? Why listen if he could not hear her voice; her sparkling laugh, her silly remarks, her endless stories, her grand ideas, her whispers in the dark and the rhythmic beat of her heart? His sense of smell was numb to all but her pure, natural perfume. His tongue was numb to all but the sweet taste of her luscious lips. His touch was numb to all but her velvet skin and silk hair, and the tinkly feeling of her eyelashes; fluttering in her sleep. His soul was numb to all... but her.

These desperate thoughts fed on his brain as he lay there, hopelessly, under the tree next to the river. This was her favorite place; she said Nature lived there. She would caress the river's waters with her fingertips, and he would see the waters ripple with laughter and elation. She would gaze up at the clouds, admiring their marvellous formations; and he would see those lucky clouds hurry by, blushing shyly at her adoration. She would lie down beneath this same tree, and he would watch the tree bend ever so slightly to shade her from the envious sun.

The envious sun. Lost in the dark labyrinth of his thoughts, he did not notice its mighty rays. He did not notice the beads of sweat sliding down his neck. He did not notice his conscious slowly slip away...

The river's waters flowed forcefully; it was as if they were running after something, away from something... maybe towards something. A rock; a single, solitary rock, rooted in the middle of the river highway.

The rock; the only obstacle blocking the way of this free-flowing force. The river, flowing with constant force and vitality; never hesitating, never faultering. Slowly, ever so slowly, with all the time in the world, under this constant, torrential force,  the rock began to crack. Just a little crack at the side, as the waters beat at it; again and again and again. The crack slowly widened, and the waters eagerly filled the new-found void. Slowly, constantly, never giving up or holding back, the river flowed...

Then, suddenly, the rock shattered. Its fragments were washed downstream, off to a distant ocean, sinking down to the deepest depths of oblivion.

He blinked. He could see; the lush green of the huge tree above his head. He could feel; the warm sun burning his face. He could smell; the freshness of the waters rushing by beside him. He could taste; the saliva slowly running back into his mouth, bringing back a faint taste of her lips. He could hear; his heart beating with a new-found purpose.

He got up; discovering, to his surprise, that his limbs could still support him. He stretched his arms up to the clouds, and saw her eyes gazing down upon him. He felt her slender arms around his waist, her soft fingertips through his hair, her presence in every cell of his being, her light; shining from his soul.

At that moment, he made two decisions.

First, he decided that he was not angry with God; what use was it anyway? He didn't understand this curious reaction, nor did he understand the meaning behind what had happened. He only felt the light; a tiny light peeping from a long-lost corner of his heart. She would often speak of that tiny light, searching the very depths of his soul just to find it. She couldn't. Although deep down, he knew that she was celebrating his new-found treasure, he still wished he could tell her. If only he could see those fireworks in her eyes again. If only he could tell her that he finally found that little light; the little light of Faith.

Second, he decided to be a river. It was much wiser than being a rock.