From the pen of the lovely Lyra Shanti
Zin didn’t seem to hear; he was busy staring at something in a shop window. Ayn tried to see what his friend was so enthralled with, but he couldn’t be sure since there were so many different objects in the store.
“Ayn…” whispered Zin, “look at it. Isn’t it the most lovely thing you’ve ever seen?”
Ayn looked again through the shop’s window, trying his best to see what was catching Zin’s eye.
“Um,” said Ayn, “what do you see?”
As Ayn looked at his Zin’s face, he saw a hint of pain in his friend’s eyes. Whatever it was that had captured Zin’s attention, it was obviously something very important to him.
Zin finally pointed at the object, touching his forefinger on the glass of the window. “It’s the most beautiful elenon I’ve ever seen.”
“What’s an elenon?” Ayn asked.
Zin slowly turned to Ayn, then looked at him as if he had asked him what the sky was. However, instead of answering Ayn’s question, he took Ayn’s hand and led him into the shop.
As Zin targeted the elenon straight away, Ayn looked around, slack-jawed. He had never seen so many musical instruments! Picking up the eight-stringed instrument, Zin soon began strumming and finger-picking at the same time, which amazed Ayn. He couldn’t believe how good Zin was; it was if he had been playing the instrument his entire life.
The shop filled with sweet harmonics, lulling Ayn into a state of peaceful transcendence. A few minutes went by as Zin played what Ayn assumed to be some sort of old folk music. When Zin finished the song, the last chord he strummed was still ringing in Ayn’s ears. The melodic resonance almost made Ayn cry, for it reminded him of the holy songs of his people.
“Zin,” said Ayn with a quivering voice, “when did you learn to play so beautifully?”
Gently putting the elenon down on the display window, Zin sighed and gave Ayn a melancholy look. “A long time ago, Ayn,” he replied wistfully.
Ayn could feel his soul-friend’s sadness as if it were his very own.
From Shiva XIV