Perception

white flower

( Yuko Nagayama – aquarelle Japanese painter)

 

In a teeny wee valley right across the mountains

Dwelt a field of stardusts, their petals dainty and shiny

So smooth, so soft, so delicate were they

Bobbing up and down, laughing, sheer joy spreading.

 

Seven petals each one had, creamy white the colour

Stems smooth and glistening, leaves tiny bright green

And when the sun shone down on them

A white carpet they seemed, so pure, fit for a queen.

 

Morning they arose, shook off their dewdrops

Whispered a prayer to the Almighty

Higher and higher the sun rose in the sky

So too their spirits, soaring heavenward high

 

“Will he come today?” cried they excitedly

A lookout they kept over the clouds passing by

Anticipation mounting, as each one approached slowly

“What stories has he in store?” they wondered silently

 

At last came the angel, riding his favourite cloud

From a long long voyage, across the valley and hills

Wanderer that he was, travelling yonder

On his silver cloud, flying with the wind.

 

Today the cloud felt lethargic, so floated she gently

At other times, full of energy, whizzed she through swiftly

Now launching above, glistening, near the sun

She took a drink of sunshine, her cheeks glowing gold

 

The stardusts gathered down, with joy swelling their hearts

“Angel, Angel, tell us please, your stories of yonder

Fill our hearts with wonder, make us explode in rapture

Reveal your marvels to us, enriched be our souls.”

 

So of damsels and swans, of fish and jungle beasts

The Angel told them tales, each better than the best

Of creatures, the true embodiment of beauty

Of still others, fearsome and powerful.

 

“Enchanting visions, rhapsodies of pure bliss” began the Angel

“Vision? Sound?” asked the poor stardusts

“Pray, tell us, these things which you speak of

Are unknown to us, simpletons that we are.”

 

“Oh,” sighed the Angel, “You poor innocents!”

“You do not have sight, to see and admire the beauty of the earth.

You do not know sound, to hear the gentle whispering of the woods

The blue of the ocean you do not see

The song of the waves you do not hear.”

 

“But why do we need sight? Our hearts are open to beauty, we feel it.

We perceive the music of pure clear love.

We have but one organ, our large heart

Which pulsates to all the vibrations of the Universe.”

 

“True,” said the Angel, “from where I came

People have eyes to measure beauty, yet they do not see

They have ears, but seldom do they hear the laughter of a baby

They have tongues which they use to spite one another.

Where are their hearts, I wonder? Indeed they are born with one.

The Almighty equipped them with the finest tools ever.”

 

“Beyond the five senses he gave them each a heart

Which whispers to the soul infinite wisdom

But slowly the heart shrank to nothingness

In its place grew their mighty egos.

Love, compassion, tenderness, all had to flee

To make way for anger, greed, and jealousy,

And the most dangerous evil of all- indifference.”

 

“Stop,” cried the stardusts,”Already our own hearts flutter

They tremble and shrink and hide deep within.

Like the air we breathe, like the food we consume

So does our heart need love and bliss.”

“Of what use are eyes? Or ears? Or speech?

We are content with just our hearts

Which gives and receives all the love, beauty and joy

Where the heart is trampled upon, no other senses work.”

 

“Blessed we consider ourselves, gratitude we feel

A teeny bit of pity for the beings you spoke of

Like lead they carry their dead hearts

Meaningless a life they lead.”

 

And so the Angel took leave, his heart singing

Upon seeing his tiny friends swaying happily in the wind

Their only purpose in life, to spread their fragrance

In all directions, like waves rippling, till eternity.

 

Copyright ©angelbeamsblog

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