Penning words may or may not come naturally to me. I have debated upon this, with myself- countless times. But it is of no import, to anyone but myself.
The pensive state that I find myself in threatens to take over me. It is of old friends that I think of. Those that I still hold close. It will all be alright, when I see them again. But, that too won't last.
Leaving doesn't hurt. Knowledge of having left precious souls in (seemingly) another universe, dawns on us much later. The wistful need to try to grab at the wisps of memories, result in tiny notes of love. It is but a relief to an itch that seeks to bundle all the loves together and tie them up tight, so You can be with them, all the time. The futility of this is far too apparent to ignore. We will all begin to detest each other, feel bogged down and create a mental prison break for ourselves.
As Human beings, We are the stupidest creatures possible. We can think. So we think, we are one of the main few that can think deeply and have memories. Elevating ourselves above other creatures, we call ourselves the masters of this world. We are strange creatures, stupid enough to destroy all that we love. I found a poor little sparrow that ended up as roadkill recently. Cars kept driving over the little bird. People walked by it, stopped to look and walked right past. Some stepped on it, by mistake of course(or so I hope). Poor little bird, we gave it a burial under a tree freshly budding. I had to scoop up its insides onto a dustpan. I felt like a good person. But its my human self again. I'm assuming that is what the bird wants. I tried only to give it the same respect, that people in this part of the world give to their own dead. For all I know, that kind of a burial, or any burial at all might be offensive to them, or their gods. I do hope, my poor little friend- who I happened to meet only after he died goes to his own kind of heaven- where cars don't exist.
No, I'm not trying to appeal to some kind of a person who enjoys seeing things that make most people cringe. Not with this bird. Gareth Jones[my professor] and Sydnie supported and helped me bury this little bird.
