9

Love’s Labour Redeemed

and a man came to Husk in a rocky region where she was waiting under a beech tree and said:

‘What does it matter that love is lost? Love is a song that trembles in the air and is caught by another. Love is a sweet melody that haunts those that like your singing. Let it go, and it will come again in another form. If you don’t let it go, it can never return, for a vessel that is full cannot be filled. But a vessel that is empty can be filled with rich new wine that you have never tasted before. And the new wine doesn’t destroy the memory of the old, but enriches your palate and your sense of having lived much. Unused palates don’t know good wine from bad. So, my weeping dear, come with me on the adventures across these mountains and let us both sing of our lovely loves lost that will come again from our singing. If you have emptied yourself in rich loving you will be ready for richer loving still. For loving is one of the most beautiful labours that ever the heart invented. But what does the labour create, what does it do? Does it make you rich, does it farm your lands, does it make a painting, does it make you famous, does it make you beautiful? It does all these things, but it does something better still – it makes a life, it sweetens a road travelled, it charms time, and gives us much to think about when the journey is ended. Yes, my dear, loving makes a life, it makes a melody of a life, which the soul goes on singing long after the sun has set. So let us go, singing of our love, and not be afraid that we have lost it, but glad that we once were loved, and once were happy. For, what with living and dying, our happiness will prove to be the brightest place in the painting. Let’s leave this shade, and set out for the festivities, where we are young again.’

And Husk followed the stranger into the landscapes, away from the rocky regions where she had been wailing.