She rested near death, head gently bowed, the ever-most tip
of that majestic beak at rest upon the grayed sand at the incoming tidal
surf. Wet back, dry neck—those grayish
brown hues --feathers muddled together revealing a diminished stature -- all
collapsed in a mere puddle of sluggish wet filoplumes. The feather keratin sloggy and no doubt her
body temperature plummeting.
A crowd of gawking bobbing iphone clickers zooming in and
out, at arms length, formed a semi-circle around the Pelicanus. Her final hour. Click click went their phones. A background of hushed excited clipped voices
muffled in the surging ocean tide. They
know not from where they came, nor where they are going.
Alas, this world is a confused muddle of eccentricities
and too muchness. Discontented,
disconnected souls whose journeys are yet to be understood by those who are on
the journey.
And yet, we wander, to and fro. Some gather at the ocean’s edge, at the
magnificence of the Feminine and take in
its majesty of her gifts like breath.
While others fall short of understanding we are one—that we are not only
to observe, but to act in love and
compassion to all in our path. We must
join in concert together in this journey and embrace, aid, love one another and
not distance ourselves through the lenses that hold us at bay.
Kat
27 June 2016
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