part one

i feel the caressing winds slide through my hair as it glides over my skin,taking away the heaviness and leaving, in its place, a comforting emptiness. The forementioned wind is relentless. She goes on and on.never stops, never will. even as it rustle through the leaves granted by the early seasons and over oceans of ancient waters.

I lie on my back over the hill of miniature proportions elevated on fields so low it stands awkward like a white elephant, a freak of nature but no less beautiful. the night sky hangs low over the lands as if mourning for a lover not returned. the velvet black cries. Honest tears of pure light, scattered, like the souls of fighters lost on the battlefield... sparkling,like the hopes of minds innocent and unstained. why such sadness? for should you not be she who lightens the dark and darken the light?

....

the seasoned owl hoots softly in the mists shrouding veils on dissapointments left aside by no one who cares. i touch the grasses between my fingers, cool and damp. sweet and green, even without looking, i know...... for she is the one to trust when all else fails. never saying much she quietly pains under me trying hard to go on.nevertheless i know, because she is too a big a part of my existence, of ours. shes hope and we are hers.

the air is silent, loud with the quiet budding of the frail flower buds vying for the rays of the last of the wintersuns in the moments to come . i listen..... i never had. its deafening. the way the bees hum restlessly in their hives, waiting for the sign to resume the battle for survival. why has'nt anyone else heard them? creeping vines and twining shoots curl in agony to reach for the heavens. the things they do, as subtle as it is, meant more than all that we ever have done. why does no one listen to them? why not?

........

she keeps everything prim and proper. never fails to bring the miracles of the days we havetaken for granted. despite it all......... all the appreciations we never gave, her existence we have come to forget, she stays her roots. like in everything else, she comes and goes in the things we see and the things look. its us who tend to oversee. she is there, alone,waiting for our return.... but until then, we overlook.



(to be continued)
ps: i wrote the first half of this during the last fives minutes of english test for no apparent reason.i guess boredom has many ways of expressing itself.