A dog and its bark breaks the silence as I lean on the bark of a tree. Contemplating nature and all its beauty. My own beauty in its natural state as well.
What are we to do but remain silent and listen to the echoes of our forefathers? If not we risk falling prey to absolute silence, not even an echo of a sound in our surround. Nothingness! The void! Erased!
Stop! Press record and go forwards with your own sound. Make it real loud. Let others know you are around. You aren’t invisible! You are invincible!
As I sat by my window I heard bird chirping coming from outside. I looked out the window and saw a bird fly by. I extended my right hand and the bird flew to me. It then sang the most beautiful of songs.
I wondered why the beautiful bird sang alone. As I held the small bird in my hands I noticed it was wounded. Poor little bird was bleeding on the area below its right wing. My heart raced and I became sad. For some reason I really cared for the bird.
The bird then took flight but faithfully returned everyday and sang its melody to me. I can’t begin to tell you the elation I felt. I was invisible in the world and it all changed the moment the bird came to me. I was no longer invisible! I was special! I was loved!
But one day the bird didn’t come. I missed it so much. Where did it go? What had I done wrong? As I wondered, a thought came to mind. His wound had healed and now it did sing among the other birds. I extended my arm out the window praying it would come to me like before but the bird just flew right by. I felt pain in my chest, and put my head down and I cried.
Photo by Dương Nhân on Pexels.com
Three days later I heard chirping coming from outside. I ran to the window and saw that my beautiful bird chirped the loudest among the others. The melody was directed towards me and I was ecstatic. With utmost excitement I extended my right hand but once again the bird didn’t fly to me. I was sad but I smiled because at that moment I realized how much he loved me too.
Sincerely
Guady G
Hugs from Brooklyn
This entry is placed in dedication to Anaya Ruiz age 11 for requesting something she could read. This story is about love and purity. Sometimes the love is there but we can’t be with those we love. Anyone have a story to share? I love to write but I also love to read.
Winter winter
A thorn, a splinter
Can I ever pluck it out?
For this I am in doubt
Compelled to no end
Ramification! Damnification!
No sanctification can ever your heart mend
So I pose the following question. Can you respond without hesitation?
If you were such a gestalt was I truly at fault? Please state it! I too am jaded.
Oh this thorn! This splinter!
It’s so frigid in our home where it’s winter.
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Namaste my wonderful followers and readers. I love each one of you to the max.
Hugs from Brooklyn
Guady G
Fluidity 