First snow has fallen it’s one a.m. everyone is sleeping curled up in their beds It comes down hard like a long summer’s rain freezing me into my own private world
A world where palm fronds wave in the wind never fearing the cold of a winter’s deep freeze Where warm water laps upon golden pink shores and seagulls battle for fishing rights below
The air is tinged with the scent of plumeria blooms and even the storms sent by Lady Ocean herself leave just enough rain to replenish the splendor of mountain rainforests and botanical wonders
In winter when the wind steals my breath and the thermometer promises instant death My mind retreats to a fantasy world of warm Tradewinds and someone I can call my own
The rules are compose a story, maximum of 250 words, inspired by the above photo prompt.
He resides there, up there in the castle on the knoll. His father before him ruled there, as did the father before that. He can be seen, not often but at times, like now, leaving the domain where he rules, to walk among the people, his people.
Everyone bids for his attention. Everyone clambers for a piece of his time, an hour here or a minute there. It can not be said that he flits from one to the other, as to each he goes with direct intention, if only for the briefest of time.
While his eyes traverse the crowd, relentlessly searching, seeking something he has not yet attained; when speaking, the listener believes he or she to be the center of his universe. For a time, until he is gone and then the void left behind by his leaving is soul wrenching deep.
He and his entourage walk back to the castle on the knoll, their mood jovial, the air of camaraderie within them a physical entity. None of them look back, he does not look back, all that went before forgotten in leu of the next big adventure.
Those he touched, those he smiled upon; watch the leaving wistfully, before returning to the darkness of their own homes.
In this life we wear many faces. We carry many burdens. We celebrate many joys. We make mistakes from which we learn. We have triumphs that give us wings. We have biological families, extended families, accidental families and chosen families. We argue, we agree. We fight over inconsequential matters and we fight for that which does matter.
Through it all, the misunderstandings, the joyous understandings. The untruths and the beautiful truths, family is family. This bond, whether formed from one’s birthing or forged from one’s living; is good, is real, is true.
To be true, to be real, to peel back the layers of painful disguises to open our eyes, takes courage, takes strength, takes love and takes faith. Faith in ones true self and faith in the trueness of others. Faith that through the pain, the answers will emerge.
Faith that each struggle will strengthen us. Faith that each heartache will fill us with compassion. Faith that each loss will remind us to live life to the fullest in the truest way we know how. Faith that when one moves from this life to the next, all transgressions are understood and forgiven. That all slights are forgotten.
That all triumphs are celebrated and all failures embraced. That in this moment of startling loss we remember that we are human, not infallible but definitely indomitable in our quest for knowledge, for understanding, for love and finally for peace.
Gypsie’s Wonderful World of Words 