For days it seems THE NIGHTINGALE has been asleep. With all the beauty, with all the sites and grandeur, he has lost scent of THE DESERT ROSE. He wanders from dawn to dusk, from sunrise to sunset. He wanders with the crowds. He wanders down the usual paths and sees the things he's supposed to see. But within him there's a different voice.
"Nightingale," the voice says to him. "What is all of this? What game are you trying to play? Stop now and be yourself. Go to the other side. Tell your story there. Speak of your sadness and of your broken heart. It's okay for people to hear your tears well inside, pouring forth from a shattered soul. It's okay to be alone."
THE NIGHTINGALE listens to the voice and fights the brimming of truth. He sees it inside him, the unnamed pain percolating like little bubbles in the deepest of seas. He hears the music and he hangs on with all his heart. He is a stranger in this land. He does not speak the language, nor does he know the subtler ways. So he holds onto the little stirrings of his heart. He knows that they're everything; that the pain he feels is all he truly has.
Closing his eyes, THE NIGHTINGALE feels his lips quiver, his heart beating, the roar of a chaotic world outside. There are so many unknown voices, but there is between their chords a slight whisper: THE DESERT ROSE. He knows. He knows she calls to him and he lets out a long and helpless sigh. THE NIGHTINGALE feels her touch as she plays the black and white keys of his heart, but he still knows not what he ought to do.
He sits inside the back of a cafe in the corner of an alleyway. He listens to music. He listens to her piano play and he sees that perhaps there is hope for him. Her voice seeps within and finds his shattered soul. He feels the grip of her fingers around his heart. It squeezes. It revitalizes his being and he hears a bell ring. A dog gazes at him from an open door. Fire burns in his little heart. Another flame has been lit. "Please," THE NIGHTINGALE cries out. "Please let this flame carry me far away. But hold me when there's nothing else for me to hold, when all is lost and I'm alone."
THE DESERT ROSE smiles. "I will hold you," she says. "But first you must surrender. First you must let go."
THE NIGHTINGALE feels his heart come alive. In an instant the flower sends her scent. It comes in the form of two messengers. A wish is answered. A small gift is given. A quiet soul speaks and reminds the bird of an old promise. "May THE DESERT ROSE guide you on the way," the messenger says. "Good luck; goodbye."