After Watching "The Weeping Meadow" By Theo Angelopoulos

What will you find when you finally find him? Summer's glow will dim even as your long journey ends in discovery. It will rain day after day, a harsh rain slashing leaves from trees, drowning their roots. But you will not concern yourself with the season. Your gaze will fixed in the middle distance where you expect to see him and he you. You will be unaware of the rain lacerating your face. You will simply postpone the sensation of pain, anticipating joy. Or will it be a long dark day in winter that you find him. With snow piled against walls, corridors of snow and slippery sidewalks, you will cautiously drive your rented car down unfamiliar streets, rehearsing out loud the first words you will speak in greeting. The huddled shapes, pulling their coats tight against their bodies, are not him, but could anyone of them be a substitute, and bring your search to an ambiguous closure? The very thought angers you, and things around you suddenly shift to spring. You find yourself sitting in a wooden bench in an urban park. Your mood is sanguine. You are smiling because children are at play, while their mothers gossip nearby. You see shapes of men, some hurrying across the lawn oblivious to the day's beauty, others walk slowly and pause frequently in admiration of flowers, trees, birds. You could be any one of those men, you are at home here. But inside you are crying, your mission unfulfilled, you are ready to declare the great god Pan is dead, the Mars probe blew up, fighting goes on and on in Syria, the dollar weakens further. Any of these things could replace your mission. But I know you need him, he most definitely needs you. Look, there is still one season left to you. You may still cross paths with him. What will you find when you find him?