Project. Don't hesitate to send feedback on grammar, substance and language. I would be very grateful. You see, english is not my mother tongue..


part three - The Myth of the Stream (revised)


Behind the garden thistle tree a little stream is passing by on its way through this old rural landscape. A long time ago it was flowing through the deep forest that once grew here. All of the animals and the trees quenshed their thirst in its clear, flowing water. One early evening the stream happened to cast a glance up through the trees and there it saw the beauty of the great sky above. It came to contemplate on what it would be like flowing up there instead of through the old dirty ground. Over time this grew into a strange yearning. And one morning it became overwhelmed by this strong desire and simply began flowing upwards, up and out of the ground and through the trees. Through the skies it flew with the birds and the clouds. It felt so high as it was floating towards the sun which shun so bright and round into the world. The stream sparkled and flew right out of life and into the unknown emptiness up there.

With the stream now gone many of the trees in the deep woods withered away and all of the animals who lived there grew so very thirsty, abandoned and alone. The bravest amongst them wandered off to seek the wide blue sea. When they reached there, hazy from their thirst, they jumped into the water and drank until the sea was all empty. When the stream in the skies above saw what happened on earth it started to cry. It cried and cried for such a long time because it blamed itself for the fallen trees and the empty sea. But the tears was not in vain, they fell on the thirsty world and after some time the sea was no longer empty but full of water and life. All of the animals who once drank the sea so empty and dry each gave a promise to the stream to guard the sea for the rest of all time. This promise pleased the stream so much and all of its relief and joy came trickling down like tears through the heavens over the woods, the fallen trees and the sea. Some time later a new stream was formed where the old once ran. Green pastures and rich fields started growing amongst the remaining old trees. And the animals never again would grow thirsty or feel abandoned and alone.

And who knows, even in our own time, the stream may still be flowing through the skies above, raining down on earth, watching all that is and all that might be. And maybe the animals now dwelling in the sea still hold the promise once made. No one can be sure but one thing is surtain. If you rest your eyes across the horizon of any water, the memory from the great drought still cast a reflection from the skies upon the surface of all the rivers, the streams and lakes and the great, wide blue sea.






Poetry by 24km
Read 252 times
Written on 2009-09-30 at 12:09

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