On finding self

On his quest to the distant horizon he came upon a tree,

tired from the journey he began to walk slower,

feeling his legs had become like cement,

he saw that he was walking in water that touched his feet

and with each step, rose higher to his knees.

The water moved about him cooling and refreshing

as step by step he came closer to the magnificent arbor,

John realized it was sitting in the middle of the river.

“I come to find the purpose of my life’s journey,”

he spoke to the sky which still lay languid

cradling the sun that was beginning its descent,

it said nothing yet sent a cool breeze

and as he dried his dampened brow

felt the feeling of silk move over his head,

his few remaining hairs blowing slightly,

the man felt calm and at ease.

He stood before the grandest tree he had ever seen,

breathing deeply noticing the light scent

so very beautiful and almost floral-like,

inhaled once more and looked down into the water.

There he saw a boy,

like a movie of images moving slowly before his eyes

and he realized that boy was himself,

and the boy aged with each blink of his eye

and the boy became a young man,

and that young man went off to fight a war,

walking in jungles where firework-like bullets passed

in the deepest of darkness,

he half-carried the man beside him closer to the shore

as tears ran down his face,

saw the waiting machine and knew he was almost home.

The next image was a man in a white room,

he could feel the throbbing in his leg

that for so long had lay dormant and realized

the image was himself,

“I made it through,” he said to the sky

and next saw a man who had only one leg

and they were shaking hands, dressed in uniform

“his name had been Henry, yes, Henry” he said

yet only heard the gentle rustle of the wind.

Next he saw images of children, his own children

that were now grown with families of their own

and one little child who never made it past grade school

before the cancer had spread and taken his little girl

as she smiled at him and held up a flower.

“Her name was Daisy,” he said to the tree with tears falling.

They fell harder and faster and he wondered how he had lived so long

yet had forgotten so much.

He reached his hand out to touch the trunk of the grand tree,

and felt the tree almost sigh,

relaxed and happy the man begged to the tree,

“please, show me more”

yet the tree only stood and allowed a single leaf to fall

into the man’s hand,

and he looked at the small leaf in his hand,

taking note of the veins that ran through it

and he held it up to the last little light,

seeing the resemblance to his own spidery veins in his hand.

Closing his eyes he nodded his head,

my journey is not over yet I see

for I have not fallen yet off of the ground,

and the sky still waits for me in the distance-

I remember now what it was that I was seeking,

and I will not find it in images of the past,

though beautiful memories indeed they were,

but I will keep moving and creating

and living

for that is all that I have always done,

and that is what I must continue to do.

He opened his eyes and found the rain had started beyond his window,

leaning over he felt the breeze blow the curtain inward

as it gently brushed his face,

he lay back down and turned to see the empty space beside him,

he smelled the floral scent on her pillow,

after months just now beginning to fade softly away,

closing his eyes he slipped back into his dreams.

 

Beautiful image found on the internet.