He turned away, and again he heard her, like the calling of a siren,
causing the steaming jungle to throb and tremble invisibly with the
incredible sweetness and beauty of that trilling, passionately
enthralling voice, piercing his soul like a javelin tipped at the point
with the sap of some unknown, virulent love concoction.
Madly, he spun around and charged through the vines, their ropes and
boughs whipping at his skin as he ignored the pain, calling desperately
and chasing with hastened steps towards her swiftly moving shadow which
could barely be glimpsed ahead, highlighted against the glimmerings of
sunlight that sparkled like the beams of coruscating, living jewels
before his eyes.
There she was! All sparkling bright shimmerings of brilliant golden
yellow sunlight flashes. Through the mottled and rippled interplay of
light and shadow patterns, he saw her silhouette against the sun, a
living vision come to life amidst the dank dark kaleidoscope of jungle,
blinding his eyes with her beauty!
He crashed wildly through, stopped to rub his eyes, and looked again,
and, disappointed, saw yet again the plain little brown wren bird,
there!, on a branch, so small, so insignificant, singing sweetly.
Where! Where was the woman who called to him?!!
He looked around, and staggered off, heartbroken and despairing.
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