A student of the Buddha once mediated on a rock by a lake. Day in, day out he would arrive before dawn, rest his feet in the lotus position, and contemplate atop the boulder till dusk.
*I am the rock, the rock is me… I am the rock, the rock is me… he would chant but his concentration would always break at the slightest distraction.
Frustrated, he picked up a nearby pebble and threw it into the waters below.
*ploop the sound it made as the pebble struck the surface and sank to the depths. A long silence then ensued.
The next day, the student arrived atop the boulder and to his surprise discovered the same pebble that he had previously thrown. Understanding the significance, he threw himself into the lake and to survive, suspended himself in a deep meditation. Centuries later after the lake had dried, some archaeologists discovered a statue of the Buddha on site. It was made out of solid rock.
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The trees… They used to walk you know. Across the land they roamed, over tall mountains, under deep canyons, beneath great lakes even. Drawn they were to the whims of a sun that could never sit still, forever rising, forever falling.
O’Mighty star, they implored. Won’t you be still and grant us reprieve? For we are weary of eternal march, trek, and quest. The sun who had heard their pleas grinned and acquiesced. Slowly it drifted to a halt, suspending motion and flight for as far as the eye could see. The trees, exasperated yet rejoiced, fell into an immense slumber, eager to rest and feed.
Eons had passed and the sun remained still; a drop in a bucket within one lifetime but a thousand generations in another. The trees had wedded themselves to the ground for their roots dug deep and their trunks grew tall. Asleep they all were when the destined day arrived and the sun imperceptibly moved. Little by little it accelerated, regaining the flight it once had ages yonder. And so the slumbering trees woke up to a frosty dew and a new witness. Day and night had been born.
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A single tether.
Oh how fragile life treats her children.
That fear has gripped you.
What once nourished now imprisons
As youth wilts into old age untested.
But fear not for these petals are more than just show.
And the seed you carry will become more than its predecessor.
So ready yourself,
The gust has come.
“The plebs. Why do they leave? Don’t they know all roads lead back to Rome?”
“Their shepherd understands this but he must delay, lest slaughter and slavery reach his people.”
“So exodus he proffers but revolution he disguises. Marching in circles to cull the weak, breeding the strong to fight the stronger.“
“Would the empire be so blind? Wolves can smell their sheep a hundred leagues away.”
“The empire let them go for they no longer desire food but a challenge.”
“And the shepherd?”
“A sheep-wolf or a wolf-sheep. Makes no difference.”
Thanatos detached the hourglass. “Pity Eros, this soul built a monumental castle early in life… Nearly pierced the heavens and broke the glass!”
Eros paused to recollect. “Aye, but he assembled too hastily. The shaky foundations undid him midlife and the whole tower collapsed. Despair nigh shed his remaining blood.”
“That would liquefy the sand beneath. Did you intervene?”
“I showed him another life…”
“Quite dangerous. Disclosing past lives create feedback loops. Containment may shatter.”
“No, I showed one future if we mixed his sand with the others; he filled in the blanks.”
“Ah. That explains the tinge of red.”
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“It’s time” announced papa as a gentle rumble crept over the train tracks.
“I’m scared! What’ll happen to you?” cried the youngling with a doleful look below.
“The wind has come to take me and scatter my essence across the land. Such is the way of life my child.”
The tracks began to shake; hum turned into roar. The youngling covered her eyes and whispered “Will I ever see you again?”
Papa nodded and faced the sun.
A resounding whoosh followed an eclipse.
When the child opened her eyes, papa was gone.
A single yellow petal fluttered against the wind.
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Entry to this weeks FFfAW! Image courtesy of Sonya.
Sophia loved sunflowers all her life.
At ten, they brightened up her day when they turned rain to shine.
At seventeen, they gave her confidence when their portrait won an art scholarship.
At twenty five, they brought her love when they hitched a ride with the one.
At thirty, they doubled her joy when their seeds helped give birth to twins.
At forty five, they lent her strength when recovering from cancer.
At sixty, they gave her hope, for a greater bloom awaited each passing year.
Today they blossomed from her ashes, wishing her the best luck in the next life.