Another kind of release

Yesterday morning I had an errand to an area which is not within easy reach of a public bus. I had to leave my car there, so going back I found myself having to walk quite a distance. To shorten it a little I decided to walk across a cemetery, which I actually know quite well, but it's huge and I needed to cut through a corner of it that I've never been to before, in order to exit on the other side.

My eyes fell on ten similar gravestones, side by side, joined together with chains. The first stone was that of a young boy, only 18, and it had a beautiful poem inscribed on the stone. The next stone was also a young person, with another lovely poem... I realized they were all in their late teens or early twenties, and saw that they all died on the same date, almost 15 years ago.

And when I remembered that horrible fire in which so many young people died, and saw the fresh flowers on each grave, I started crying - not over anyone I knew, but over lives and dreams and loves lost. I read the rest of the poems through a haze of tears.

After a while I continued walking, lost in thoughts. When my tears had dried up I found myself in a clearing in a beautiful forest, on a hill, with a clear view over the city. I stopped and enjoyed the moment, and though it felt odd I had to admit to myself that I knew that feeling so well. The feeling of being released, of my body feeling relaxed yet light, of my mind feeling clear and resolved.

I won't recommend crying instead of masturbating, but it did bring me a little closer to understanding the mystery that is the human orgasm.