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Renewal of wings

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                                Renewal of wings

    It’s Nor ;about beauty. As much as it is about strength. How the world can suffer from the knowledge that it can keep. A single thought or theory can cause ruin. Wren thought her days were numbered, as she looked upon the world dark, as it had begun. The sounds of the world had gone quiet, left alone with her thoughts. In her final moments, nothing made sense, the flowers weren’t as pretty. The men weren’t as kind. She felt as if her years on the earth had meant nothing. For she had learned nothing. She knew the sky grew dark, she knew the world grew cold. But why had she suffered and not know anything? Had she done something wrong?  Wren knew not how to comprehend her end. For she knew her end was here and it was nought for long before death would sweep her away. But as her eyes fluttered closed for one last time, the peaks of sun flashed. A white light swept all that was within its grasp and the dew and renewal of the day caused a feeling she couldn’t describe.

Was this death?

This light that cleansed all that it touched.  The light gracing the trees in which she lay bleeding out, the flowers that were once asleep from the cold rustled out their slumbers. As they turned towards her and the light.  Wren couldn’t see the flowers she knew they were there jostled and perked against her body. The blades of grass that held her body up grew wet as if crying for her. But what did the grass, know of death? Or the trees? the flowers? They knew nothing from what she comprehended, tricks of her imagination. Sparking for one last final image finding anything that could soothe her pain.The light didn’t pause for her continuing its duty without a fault, waking the birds. Their song so sweet, she felt if her eyes weren’t so heavy Wren would watch the birds awaken their wings.The whisper of the wind blew and tangled her hair into branches that had fallen, but she didn’t care. At peace with the nature that surrounded her. She could feel the warmth of the light, then, nothing.

Her body fell limp within the grass that held her and the ants, birds, and squirrels chatter fell into silence. She was left in the dark with nothing to hear or ignore.  Why did they grow silent? did her death mean all her sense cut off never to be able to touch the soft grass? never to be able to hear the birds? The rustling? not to smell the dew of the morning?Where she thought death would come and judge her deeds, she knew she wasn’t worthy. Worthy of what was what she didn’t know. The dark bleakness of the afterlife didn’t go on for long. She heard it, ‘thump, thump ‘ a timed rhythm that would oblivious to ignore. Her body felt warm to warm, she was enclosed in a space that was unfamiliar it was warm, wet and cramped. She felt like she couldn’t move much less, breathe but she couldn’t see. It’s been suffocating was this her punishment for all eternity-?

Dawn still came her light, bright as she walked through the world. One step at the time rising higher with each step. Her hands twinkled as she woke up all the baby animals, watching as the light glistened off the melting snow, the water rippling and melting down like a slip of garments. As Dawn reached the birds she felt the powers of Brahmin at work, a creature reborn again to learn, the cycle that never ends for most. Her eyes gazed at all the places that covered in shadows had she missed a spot beneath the leaves and bushes that her light didn’t hit? Was there someone that need her guidance and light? Dawn spread her arms wide as the shining light bursted  high and sifting through the cold to help out all that seeked her light. The land shone with a bright dims of blues, soft yellows, and pinks as it danced off the water and leaves waking up everything in sight. With a nod her graceful present grew tired the last of her light dimmed into the shining sun of agni. He would stay in the sky while she slept to awake once more and awaken the rest. it was for herself to sleep with her family and vishnu. As she rose high once more into the sky before settling down to drift a new again.

Streaks of Light bursts through her confinement, shimmering off the walls Patterns of pink and rose across her walls so beautiful she could not tear her eyes away from the sight. Hope filled her body, determination ran through her veins. Wren Would not  be stuck in this small space. The light made the walls feel thin and not as hard. If light can shine through the walls could not be that thick right? Bashing her weak arms against it, she needed to break free. To whatever means, but she needed to be let free. The need filled her body as the light continue to dazzle and encourage her. In a desperate attempt her head came in contact with the wall as it started to crack, again and again. The crack grew bigger till a chip in the armour fell away. The once white wall cracking and a tiny hole forming as it crumbled to her feet. The hole showed a beautiful sky alit with a colour of blue and gold. Leaves hid her view from direct sunlight but the sight in front her was one she would never replace.  Her head peaked out she didn’t know what she could say, but she wanted to feel the rest of her body in this warmth.A gentle divine like presence, a warmth of love? Stretching her arms out, they felt different for a few seconds. In the brief flash of warmth, her mind felt cleansed. Her memories of her mother vanishing. All her sorrow, anger and emotional distress swept away as if a painful dream. Her mouth opened a cry a mournful sound came from the little brown bird knows as a wren. What she calls out for is hunger. Our of hunger for knowledge or food then only Vishnu can know. Her pink wings flapping not quite yet ready to fly. But the journey seems endless when your young. to start a new again in a world as old as time. The sound of flapping as a larger brown bird appeared, as the mother bird who once was a teacher a guide of spiritual ways that was lost. Maybe she can hopefully teach her in ways others could not. The sound of whistling as a young boy gazed at the tree a knowing smile, before his whistles turned to wind willowing  and he was gone.




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