I've been feeling artsy lately, toying with metaphors and philosophy. This post is actually a very short story; it could potentially be a poem, but I'm not sure yet. To me, this is just a little tale, wrought with symbolism and personification.
THE TREES
I once knew of two trees: trees not too far yet not too close. They were significant enough to catch my attention, though ordinary enough to be ignored by the common eye. They arched and swayed in the wind, while staying solid and true like the foundation of nature they were. I loved them. I noticed them. My heart filled with affection when their branches reflected against my eyes. For they were dancing.
Words commonly accepted by the English language aren't entirely able to describe my trees. There was a certain quiet, enchanting magic about them. They stood by themselves in the midst of a vast field; they commanded the stage of Earth's theatre, but weren't often commended for their performance. Each day I passed them, I breathed in their aura, and I captured the breath for a moment of reverence. Sometimes, on the special mornings, they would whisper a story through the breeze. My trees had seen more than I could imagine.
I grew increasingly fond of the dancing trees; they became a facet of my daily life. Extraordinary things happened when we were together. I was stunned, and confused, and heartbroken when I returned one day, and they weren't there.
Oh, their shells were still present. But these trees were not the same. Only one was standing tall; the other cowered at her feet. I knelt toward the earth, my tears glistening against her fallen bark. From my vantage, I felt equal with her defeated presence, yet stronger than my other beloved tree fixed arrogantly above me. A comforting hand reached out for mine, and I felt as one with the fallen. My lamentations ceased as wisdom swirled within my understanding.
I did not feel fallen. I felt resurrected. We slowly, steadily, almost whimsically arose and reached toward the heavens. Stars whirled about our consciousness; I glanced downward and noticed that the living tree had not joined us. From how she seemed to be so robust and confident, she now appeared shrinking and sickly.
I tightened by grip on Anastasia's swirling limbs and flew into the unknown.
We did not look back.
THE TREES
I once knew of two trees: trees not too far yet not too close. They were significant enough to catch my attention, though ordinary enough to be ignored by the common eye. They arched and swayed in the wind, while staying solid and true like the foundation of nature they were. I loved them. I noticed them. My heart filled with affection when their branches reflected against my eyes. For they were dancing.
Words commonly accepted by the English language aren't entirely able to describe my trees. There was a certain quiet, enchanting magic about them. They stood by themselves in the midst of a vast field; they commanded the stage of Earth's theatre, but weren't often commended for their performance. Each day I passed them, I breathed in their aura, and I captured the breath for a moment of reverence. Sometimes, on the special mornings, they would whisper a story through the breeze. My trees had seen more than I could imagine.
I grew increasingly fond of the dancing trees; they became a facet of my daily life. Extraordinary things happened when we were together. I was stunned, and confused, and heartbroken when I returned one day, and they weren't there.
Oh, their shells were still present. But these trees were not the same. Only one was standing tall; the other cowered at her feet. I knelt toward the earth, my tears glistening against her fallen bark. From my vantage, I felt equal with her defeated presence, yet stronger than my other beloved tree fixed arrogantly above me. A comforting hand reached out for mine, and I felt as one with the fallen. My lamentations ceased as wisdom swirled within my understanding.
I did not feel fallen. I felt resurrected. We slowly, steadily, almost whimsically arose and reached toward the heavens. Stars whirled about our consciousness; I glanced downward and noticed that the living tree had not joined us. From how she seemed to be so robust and confident, she now appeared shrinking and sickly.
I tightened by grip on Anastasia's swirling limbs and flew into the unknown.
We did not look back.