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The Flow of Water

Essay By: parkelis
True confessions


Years of no movement are abrupted by a single instance where in the water streams in a new direction.


Submitted:Dec 11, 2011    Reads: 66    Comments: 16    Likes: 8   


Dear Diary,

A new today was merely like any other day before. Nothing special, especially nothing at all.

The sky hanging over my sunken head was blue, with tints of blue and shades of still more blue. The sun played hide and seek with the clouds, getting caught every so often.The grass was green, with a peppered appearance from a conglomeration of colors (of all the animals gleefully buzzing around). Just another familiar day in the routine life of a common human being on this un-evolutionary earth - who, for the purposes of this essay, may remain unnamed because a name really wouldn't make a difference. Ultimately, there was nothing wrong with today. Nothing right with today, either.

* * * * * *

Today was extra ordinary, or that was what I thought, until I stumbled across the saddest looking little bird outstretched on an open field. It was a red cardinal, the very cardinal I distinctly remember seeing only yesterday, as he claimed the mighty skyline as his own personal oasis.

"Little bird, what's wrong?" The diminutive creature staring straight upward, into the heavens, gave no response. He seemed awfully pensive, as if the most depressing thought had struck him and tranced him under the control of some sort of terrible (but yet, still serene) spell.

I took a nearby branch and gently tapped the bird on its tender stomach. As it lay across the grass, it didn't make a move. I then set the stick on the bird's stomach and hoped to see it rise, fall, and rise again as the bird inhaled and exhaled air. There was no movement. I neared my face to its beak and looked for any sign of life. The little bird was gone. It was too late.

* * * * * *

And all this that we consider a 'life,' what is it exactly? A rudimentary routine of absolute nothingness punctuated by few, peculiar instances of progression literally altering everything - water without movement suddenly eclipsed by the breaking of a dam and an insurmountable overflow of life. The bird and I only got a chance to view a small glimpse into the life of one another, but the bird - in this brief period - had changed me, and at the same time, I bore witness to death changing the bird's life (letting me play some role in his life as well).

What are we meant to fill the many spaces, the many moments of emptiness in between moments of meaning, with? We have friends and family and the whole world around us acting as a playground always beckoning us forward to explore life and ourselves - and for us to do what we will with. What of these are to be included in the narrative we go on to live and die from?

And this day when that bird died, I felt a change inside of me. But did anything even change at all? Death, the biggest game changer, is it just a natural, unnoticed part of life, or does it indicate the swaying of our internal winds into a whole new direction?

What more can I say now? I'm speechless, at a loss of words, but yet I keep on writing. So many questions just keep popping up into my wind, without corresponding answers. A return to normality and a revert to a world overfilled with black holes is inevitable.

See you later, diary.





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