Friday, February 24, 2006

the bird and the stone

the bird flew from its perch, feeling alone although he was not alone there....he flew over the place where he had nested when he was young, hovered closer and tentatively looked around....a familiar object caught his eye and he stealthily approached....he recognized its shape and the glow that emanated from it.....as he got nearer, he saw that the once nearly flawless surface was scratched but the incandesence he remembered was still there...he circled around it curiously, viewing it from every angle, then picked it up....he flew with it, tucked under his wing, to places he had been before, but bathing in the warmth the stone gave him, these places took on hues he had never seen before....he then returned it to where he had found it, and flew quickly back to his perch.....drawn again by the radiance, the bird once again gathered the stone and soared, over terrains once familiar yet not........

this continued for awhile until the bird found himself frightened and what was once dazzling to him became blinding.....the stone, sensing this withdrawal, hid under some tall, thick grass......

the bird flew as quickly as he could, back to the comfort he felt in the discomfort he had fled before......he had seen many stones before and toyed with them, taking none into his heart nor home....and this one was no different...

he had chosen to remain in his matte existence, cold and familiar......

 

 

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i am older than dirt and proud of it!!!! i have managed to incorporate my eternal 60's nation spirit with the high tech 21st century world. i am an artist/writer, who dabbles in rhyme, and, sometimes, reason. my passions are my husband, who is truly the wind that ruffles my sails, animals rights, yoga, the beach, waking up in the morning. i find inspiration in too many things to list, and far too many more to remember. i have added sketching, watercolor painting, and photography to my ways of expressing joy and gratitude. from living with a chronic illness, i have learned the beauty of each day, and treat each as another sun salutation, and another chance. P.S. all painting, poems and photographs are my originals karen Lyons kalmenson