The Little Bird that stood on the wire.........
Yesterday while working at my desk I turned to look out the window. From out of the window I saw a little bird standing on the wire. Solem and alone. No friends No family… just alone. The little bird standing on the wire. I now think back on how from day to day I would stand silent in the morning sun and listen, for their song, as it came from the nest above the porch. Daily the little birds sweet song would echoe through out the entire yard , and as I watched the little bird together with its siblings, flying around the yard, playing, and taking seed from the feeder, I was filled with a wonderful escence . The little birds song is the sound of natures pulse….I remember how the grass was wet from the morning dew, how honey suckel grows along the fence. The shower that came from the fountain in the pond, I remember a mist that was visible in the sun. It is all a reminder of life, and how a honest heart is of a kingdom of itself. I can only speak of the struggles of life, and I some how fill akin to the little bird that stood on the wire. But as you know. As in life, behind the fence, sleeping predators also have awaken, They lurk along the tree line. Ready to end the progression of life. I now know why the little bird is all alone. For in a moment a predator took the little bird, from me. The tallons still poison from previous kills. Claws penetrating the chest of the little bird. Poison seeping in, but it wasn't enough to give the little one mercy, I quickly got up from my chair and I stood at the window. I watched in horror as the flesh was torn from the little one, and ravaged by the predator. I swear to you now.. for in that moment a small part of me seemed to have died, a part of my soul, from deep inside me I felt as if my heart began to bleed……and I can not express to you the loss that I felt at that moment. Even now, as I take pen in hand to record what has happened. A daily event has been taken from me, my blissful mornings, forever wrecked and turned into a tragedy. A memory I took great joy in and had often reflected upon, was now something I can't even bare to think about. Even now, I can not express to you how much I will forever miss……. The Little Bird that stood on the wire……… TMT..................Abstract friend..........
The path you have taken may look so much different from the other end. It is only for you to make it rite in your mind. For it is you that will live with it. I will take what you have not given to me as affectionate silence. I also know that it is difficult to speak to me at times, and somehow, I find myself content in silence. For the last time we spoke you dropped upon me, those burdens that have troubled you for so long while upon the road. As we spoke I realized that I no longer knew who you are. For me that is such great tragedy. Others still, cannot understand why it is so dissagreeable for me to speak of you or to have you in this place.Once while I stood talking to someone in the street, you passed. Somehow I felt as If I knew who you were... Quickly... I came to my senses,... and dissmised the entire thought.....TMT.............................................
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......................The Predator and the Prey....
Breaks from previous ties and conventions. Life altering decisions. How reckless and dangerous they are, inebriate the soul. O the mystic delirium. An at that moment. The predatory hawk seizes its prey and drenches itself in the passion. O how they feed on the soul. They sing the song of the splender of true love. But they are stiff an unable to bend. The trials and burdens of lifes troubled souls will break them, and when they are broken, these unimpassioned souls will become transparrent. Then you shall see that you alone were the architect of your own dissmay, and they were but a tool for disstruction, as I profess to you now! That there is no shame to ache for something that touches both the body and the soul....TMT.................................................
.Darest I...I sit silent in a vacant room, detached from reality, away from that which drains me. Away from my art. I ponder it's themes. My youth leaves me. Time silently approaching seating itself nearer. A solemn slow day to day process that devours me. O you give me good notice indeed. The graying of the hair. The wrinkling around the corners of the eyes.... My art has had no effect or contribution to the universe. But my language how crude it has become, riddled with profanity, has become the finest art. Returning to those phantom thoughts. I ponder in silence. I ask myself. How can this be an art, only I hear day to day that it is.I see how my words effect the behavior of others. Profanity seems to aide in the expression of the perfect thought. Perhaps it has become the language of the day. Thoughts processed, however crude they might be, burst from the mouth and floating into the air. Absorbed by the minds of others. There's no map no guide. Just a voice sounding in the air. Art that can't be touched by the human hand just absorbed by the mind. Darest I, O Soul- Walk out with me toward the unknown region. The ground is soft and there is no path to follow..............TMT travel layout powered by HOT FreeLayouts.com / MyHotComments
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