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Friday, January 7, 2011
Fallen but loved
Ripples erupted from the fallen leaf that'd touched the water surface.
He sat at the edge of the pond staring.
As she walked up to him, he noticed her reflection in the water.
Yet another wave of ripples blurred that beautiful reflection.
He turned around to face her.
She smiled.
"I wasn't expecting you."
She put a finger to his lips as if to silence him.
Gently, she held his weathered palm in hers and led him away from the pond.
He knew he was safe.
All the running had wore him down; mentally and physically.
He'd only hoped for a safe haven to settle down; away from the hatred and animosity he'd received his whole life.
He'd only hoped for one thing, and it had caused him a lifetime of ridicule.
He was the fallen leave, and the water - his haven.
No one could undermine anyone's strength; even a fallen leaf has the power to cause waves of mysterious ripples.
She knew, right from the start, that he was special - everyone is, in one way or another.
Even if it meant that that no one would give her their blessings, she would still choose to be with him.
"Where are we going?"
She smiled; her sweetest smile he'd ever seen.
"Wherever you are bringing me."
This time it was his turn to lead.
With a deep breath he took the hand that had his entwined and brought it to his lips.
Tears found her eyes. They were happy tears.
And with nothing in their name, they embarked on a journey as fallen angels - vulnerable, yet capable of love.
Clipped of wings, they neither feared nor resent - they were like the fallen leaf, making waves of ripples of their own.
Ripples that constantly reminded them of the false and unreal - and stay true to what was real.
Love has completed them.
Such... is the beauty of life.
-------------------------------------------------
You must pardon me for the sappy story.
First off, I'm extremely tired and am not really inspired (except by my wonderful husband)...
Second, the ambiguity of defining love has made me doubt my ability to pick the best form of metaphor to write on.
Angels spread the joy of love - yet they do not indulge in affairs of the heart.
I have reckoned that the story would create some irony just as much of what life has to offer are mostly ironic.
Yet writing it out proved much difficulty.
Alright. Will ponder over this issue and come up with a better metaphor.
Time to sleep!
He sat at the edge of the pond staring.
As she walked up to him, he noticed her reflection in the water.
Yet another wave of ripples blurred that beautiful reflection.
He turned around to face her.
She smiled.
"I wasn't expecting you."
She put a finger to his lips as if to silence him.
Gently, she held his weathered palm in hers and led him away from the pond.
He knew he was safe.
All the running had wore him down; mentally and physically.
He'd only hoped for a safe haven to settle down; away from the hatred and animosity he'd received his whole life.
He'd only hoped for one thing, and it had caused him a lifetime of ridicule.
He was the fallen leave, and the water - his haven.
No one could undermine anyone's strength; even a fallen leaf has the power to cause waves of mysterious ripples.
She knew, right from the start, that he was special - everyone is, in one way or another.
Even if it meant that that no one would give her their blessings, she would still choose to be with him.
"Where are we going?"
She smiled; her sweetest smile he'd ever seen.
"Wherever you are bringing me."
This time it was his turn to lead.
With a deep breath he took the hand that had his entwined and brought it to his lips.
Tears found her eyes. They were happy tears.
And with nothing in their name, they embarked on a journey as fallen angels - vulnerable, yet capable of love.
Clipped of wings, they neither feared nor resent - they were like the fallen leaf, making waves of ripples of their own.
Ripples that constantly reminded them of the false and unreal - and stay true to what was real.
Love has completed them.
Such... is the beauty of life.
-------------------------------------------------
You must pardon me for the sappy story.
First off, I'm extremely tired and am not really inspired (except by my wonderful husband)...
Second, the ambiguity of defining love has made me doubt my ability to pick the best form of metaphor to write on.
Angels spread the joy of love - yet they do not indulge in affairs of the heart.
I have reckoned that the story would create some irony just as much of what life has to offer are mostly ironic.
Yet writing it out proved much difficulty.
Alright. Will ponder over this issue and come up with a better metaphor.
Time to sleep!