Chamnongsri Rutnin Hanchanlash
Somewhere in timelessness, there lived a young man whose heart had a secret door. Behind the closed door, there was a garden with songbirds, sweet fruits, and soft-petalled lotuses that grew in a crystal-clear pond.
People could not see these wonderful things for the door was always shut. All they could see from the outside was the richness of his beauty, and they could hear melodies of birdsong in his voice. There was a barrier that prevented them from looking deep into his black eyes.
Many wanted to see the wonders that were hidden in his heart. But he only smiled and kept the door locked and barred. He did not think them wise enough to fully enjoy of his treasures.
As years went by, the lotuses grew more and more beautiful. The fruits were more lush and colourful, and the birds sang as though their hearts would burst behind the door that never opened.
One day came along a young girl. Her face had the purity of a lotus flower. Her eyes shone like black crystal, and her voice was as sweet as music of birds. She gave the young man luscious fruit and fragrant flowers from her garden.
The young man was charmed by her gifts. He could see the beautiful garden in her heart: but he only smiled, and took care that she could not see too deep into his eyes.
The girl knocked on the closed door of his heart until her hands bled, but it remained tightly shut.
Sadly, she went away.
When she was gone the young man turned to look behind his locked door. He saw his garden bright and glittering as never before.
The fruit, the flowers, and the lake had turned into crystal, even songs of the birds had changed into crystal notes that had no sound. He thought to himself that the garden was more beautiful than ever and more precious. No one must be allowed to see it for they might reach inside and chip something in his priceless crystal garden.
He added a padlock to the lock of the door and threw away both keys.
People felt an intangible change in the young man. His beauty had a brighter shine to it. The melodies of birdsongs in his voice were brittle. His black eyes had a mysterious brilliance that was sharp and cold.
And he seemed to like walking alone.
From: On The White Empty Page and More.2001.