From: paulchem@tigger.cs.Colorado.EDU (Icarus)
Subject: The koan of the candle burning.
Organization: University of Colorado, Boulder
Date: Mon, 17 Aug 1992 02:29:48 GMT


1] Have attached another story.
   Critiques welcome.

2] 

                      The koan of the candle burning.
                      --------------------------------

   Yuri, passes under Lara's window, their ultimate fate unknown to
   either of them. They are still strangers, Yuri passionate in his
   youthful enthusiasm for his vocation as a doctor, Lara enmeshed
   in her affair with her mothers lover. But Yuri sees a candle burning
   through that window, and it triggers off a spell of writing.

             "A candle burns ..." J. said quoting Dr. Zhivago.

	   "So, what was pasternak trying to say here ?", I. asked K. 

    K. had a knack of saying things that often stuck in your mind.

        "A candle burns,
         her hidden lace,
         molten wax feeding,
         opon her inner grace."
     
    I. smiled. Trust K. to over-simplify for the sake of effect.
    Lara seemed to thoroughly enjoy herself if it was burning she was doing.

         "Life is a candle,
          lost in space,
          lighting the way,
          to endless chase."

	 D. grinned hugely at the rest of us.
     He always saw the dark side of every star, seeing gloomily if at all.
     He got away sometimes, with imitations of the medieval poets, but 
     most of the time he parodied himself.

     But were'nt they seeing it wrong ? bringing in sin and moral law ?

     I. couldnt resist any longer.

          "I have heard it said,
           among my favourite dead,
           sin and crime,
           pleasure and pain,
           are private views,
           of the sadly sane."

      A. laughed at that. She dipped her chocolate cookie into her coffee.
      She pulled at the hem of her skirt aimlessly adjusting her posture.
      I. felt a pang again. He wondered if she knew how he felt.
      She certainly paid little attention, but that was no guide to 
      a woman's affections.


          "You talk of good and sin,
           a little like thick and thin,
           as relative things,
           like saturns rings,
           blind to God, 
           the prophet, and to aaron's rod."

      
     I. smiled to himself. 
     He knew A. was Lara in her own mind, faithful to her Yuri, sinless
     and a victim of circumstance. We all had our illusions.

     "Take me", he thought, "Woody allen without the glasses.",
     cheating at metaphysics class looking into the soul of the girl next
     to me.

     "Do I take it then, you actually believe in God ?", J. insinuated.

     A. would rise to the bait. She always did.

     I. settled himself into his seat, slumped,  his head resting on his 
     forearms crossed on the table. He waited for the first invocation
     of the "first cause" and the necessity of avoiding infinite chains
     of causation, his eyes lazily following the strands of hair that 
     fell across her face, escaping the strictures of the restraining
     pins and ribbons. 

        "As a little girl, dad bought me a bicycle for my birthday.
     It was kind of nice, bright red and had streamers running from the
     sides of the handles and wheels riding on the spokes that turned
     while you rode. I was so proud of my bike, I wouldnt let anyone
     touch it, not even my kid brother. You know how kids are.", she said.

        "So anyway, a month or two later, I dont remember anymore, I
     was riding my bike down the street next to our house when I heard
     this really loud horn behind me. I turned around to look and saw
     a yellow dumpster with wheels higher than me on my little girl's
     bike, come racing down the road. The next thing I knew, I was 
     sliding down the road, the bike and me on our sides. I didnt even
     feel the skin ripping from my knees and arms. All I saw was the
     truck coming closer. I could see the man sitting in the drivers
     cabin and I could see the tubes and all the turning pieces of
     machinery under that truck that made that damn thing work. I saw,
     or atleast I think I saw, the little rubber doll stuck to the windshield,
     with those suction caps, grinning at me."


        "All I could think of, was: 'God, please let me die, I dont want
    to live with one arm or a broken back, I dont want to hurt, please 
    let me die.' I cried a little because I wouldnt be able to play the 
    angel at the passion play for christmas next week. I cried for the
    new dress I wouldnt get to wear. I just closed my eyes and waited for
    the end."

        "I was shivering and in shock when the driver carried me home,
    with nothing worse than bruises. My dad told me the bike was mangled
    and the wheels had come apart, and I never could get him to buy me 
    anything with wheels after that.", she said, her eyes wide with the
    remembered fright.

        "burning wax,
         a secret semaphore,
         of fate and surging life,
         destiny running wild, 
         fighting over our souls."

	 K. spoke and we left it that, saying our goodbyes, each alone in 
     secret terror.

3] Stay Cool.

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.    ~ ~                                                                     .
.    o o      signito ergo sum.              paul chemmanoor.                .
.     |    i sign therefore i am.            Computer Science department.    .
.     =                                      Univ. of Colorado, Boulder.     .
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