The Little girl cried, the shell was gone and she sobbed, knowing her life was taken away at that moment. She walked to the edge of the surf, the bubbles tickled her toes but she no longer giggled, she no longer laughed, she no longer thought about today or tomorrow, because today was gone, and tomorrow did not exist.
Love was a memory, a story, a rhyme, a fairy tale; love lingered and was lost; love grabbed at her heart and was tossed, tossed into the ocean to swim with the fish, then taken into the deep with the shells.
The little girl remembered, remembered once upon a time, a time when she was lost in a cave, when she was swimming in the river, when she made friends with the Wombat, the Bird and the Frog, when she had a family.
The little girl stepped into the waves and was swept back in time; remembering the times when she was loved, and she loved. The shell took it all away from her, she loved it the most, and now it was gone.
A heart is but a fragile thing, it lingers and waits
The sea is but a tormentor, it rolls in on the tide, and takes
The little girl gave her heart a chance to love, she gave it away
a heart that waited and lingered, but all too long that day
I find myself overwhelmed and steeped in misery, because I can't fix the world and its problems. And then I realize that it's to my best advantage to look within myself - and it's simply me, myself and I that needs a new outlook, a new perspective...fix what's closest, fix what you can, and hope for the best.
The Money Hungry, the Greedy, the Capitalists, these are the people who came to the Americas to steal and rob and take what didn't belong to them; these are the people that we fight against today. A never ending battle. These are the people who have robbed us all, and continue to rob us of all of our freedoms, our life’s blood to live on this earth in peace; our home that is to be nurtured and loved. We will receive nothing back from our earth, from each other, when all we do is take.
love torments the night
love tugs, conflicts within sleep
love’s vanishing light
The little girl continued to walk the shore until she realized there was more to see. The sand and sea wasn’t everything to her, to you, or to me.
She took a step to the right, then to the left, sea grasses swayed and beckoned her foot prints.
She noticed the change in her step, the firmer the ground the more she hastened, and the stride became lengthened.
Hard ground led her to rocks, through valleys and hills, to rivers and streams; she noticed the birds, the animals, all different from what she was used to. She wasn't sure how to react; to ignore them, to talk to them, or to just live within their presence in love, and to leave them in peace.
Love, a word that repeats itself throughout history, and for the most part is ignored, or battered and bruised. The little girl had friends in the forest, from another life. She had friends in the rivers and streams, and in oceans it seemed, but this was another life, a life where she was just a child, and now she was a woman-child. A woman who hasn't grown in wisdom, remaining the little girl locked away in her cave, her mind, wishing and wishing for a way to get out - Now, the child with new eyes wanting to see more; wanting to hear more; wanting to grow more in wisdom, where more is always to be learned.
Shells were born again, sea creatures emerged in abundance, lining the sea grasses and surf, forming a wall, protecting the waters from intruders. She noticed this.
Rocks piled, one upon the other, along the river banks, streams and lakes, fearful of overflow and losing its precious clean water that everyone screamed for. The little girl noticed this.
The water refused to form in the clouds, leaving them barren.
The ground became dry, and then barren as well.
She noticed people were forming their own barricades, selfishness bloomed instead of flowers, flowers that refused the dry earth. Keeping you, keeping, me, keeping the little girl a safe distance away.
The fish, her friends, were now estranged. They swam away. The birds refused the gift of her hand, fearful. The animals became wild beasts, running in the opposite direction when seeing her footprints on the forest ground. They refused to make a sound.
Tears stained the earth as people grew in number, outnumbering the wilderness and all of its beautiful gifts. The gifts were taken, one after another without thought of replacing or regrowing.
The earth shook, the earth spewed its warnings, but no one heard for all the loud disorder, dissention and destruction. Chaotic noise became louder, it was now in charge, it ruled the world in selfish tones without harmony, without melody to guide them.
The woman/child now understood the workings of wisdom; where to learn from mistakes, adjusting understanding, and leading with love in your heart was the only way to break this path of ruin, but she was also now alone. People turned against each other; People fought for what they called rights. She had to learn what these rights meant, and when she did she realized they were just another form of self destruction. We can’t have one right that takes away another’s rights. No one agreed to what was right or what was wrong.
The clouds came and went; the earth tore itself into twos, and then into threes, and fours and fives; the earth became so divided that no one person knew where they needed to stand without falling into an abyss so wide there would be no way to climb out.
The woman walked back to the sea; tore through the sea-grasses, climbed the wall of shells and trudged across the sticky blood on the sand, then dove into the polluted water of the ocean and swam and swam until her heart gave out and lost all of its love for the human race.
The sea creatures came to her. The shells floated back to the shoreline, in hopes that someday they would be picked up again by another innocent little girl who loved the earth with all of her heart.
Smile, Smile, Smile came the sound of the brook. It runs, it tumbles, it splashes the sides of the stream bed. Smile, smile, smile it says as I cry. Cry. Cry.
The little girl sat by the edge of the running brook, and as she bent over the rock she saw her reflection in the shallow water. The glimmer of her face in a sparkling drop; a school of fish swam side by side, and as her tear struck the rock, it splashed onto the fish and stunned them still. Still. Still.
They could not move forward, nor backward, nor up nor down. Still, they became still. The sound of the brook became silent. Silent. Silent.
She lost her love in a single tear. The little girl was a woman, Gone. Gone. Gone, out to sea in a sailboat, lost. Lost. Lost. The fish looked at the woman and smiled. Smiled. Smiled...but the woman’s heart broke in a million pieces and fell into the brook, onto the fish, and the rivulets and the fish carried the pieces away.
Away. Away out to sea, never to be seen, never to be seen. Never to be seen again. A broken heart flies across the sea, caught in the sails, forever open to a wayward breeze.