Monday, August 23, 2010

is it a bird?

In a world where tolerance and political correctness have been exalted as flags of honour, one quiet but gentle community appears to have been overlooked. You see, there is no point in having a vehicle with which to explore the wild, wild woods without a place of reflection for the beauty within the trees.

If all you brought home was the boast that you had been there, then you have nothing to offer those who have never seen a tree.
The arborist will speak of the structure, growth and health, but possibly not listen to the panic as each leaf loses colour and connection, falling and failing in her natural progression of seasons.
The artist will give an image you may keep, respecting form, shades and shadows, without pouring the picture of isolation into a page that makes you ache.
The teacher stirs a passion to understand the balance, variety, details and history. The banker will evaluate the financial value in removing the trees and evolving a community, the environmentalist will debate the banker, the Politician will make a party out of it and a local Cop may arrest them all. The believer encourages faith that even without argument, there is a reason and outcome for each aspect of the forest. The musician will offer harmony to the ensuring ballad.
And around the fringes, sensing every mood, betraying every belief, systematically sweeping stony steps, screaming inside because nobody is listening to them or understanding them or even noticing that their feelings had been shattered by the volume of the crowd, that they felt the crushed leaves, and heard the weeping willows, are the depths of the turbulent inner world of the...
don't accuse them of carrying on, somebody has to be taking notes on the vacuous vanity because one day it may be read, and appreciated, if anybody would...
stop lecturing them on diet, smoking, nail-biting and whining,
they are not paranoid but maybe tired of being misunderstood and feeling as if nobody cared.

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