I believe in miracles...
“Something stirs from the barren wastelands of my heart. It must be a miracle because for miles, the wastelands stretch ahead. Further than the sands of deserts blow. Further than the waters of oceans flow. My heart simply reaches out to a vast emptiness, ad infinitum.
It must be a miracle. Finally, there is a sign of movement. A sign of life. Slowly, it clambers out of the ground from its long slumber, ready to face its desolate surroundings. Then, with an abrupt leap and wings well-spread, it soars to the skies. Like a butterfly fluttering in the air. Like a sparrow drifting in the winds. Like a gryphon riding in the clouds.
It is peace. It is freedOm. It is love.”
The boy carelessly flung his pen across the table and closed his diary. The gentle whisper of the raindrops beating softly against the windows was making him dreamy. For a minute, he had almost believed in miracles. Feeling rather disgusted that he had almost made a big mistake he had so often warned himself of, he was compelled to write something more attuned to his temperament. He opened his diary and continued with another entry.
“The heart is but a muscle which acts like a pump, dispersing and regulating blood to the rest of the body. The moment it starts beating, it is destined to stop. Nothing lasts forever, and November Rain by Guns n Roses is one hell of a bloody nice song although I never knew hearts could change. What? Did they turn into kidneys instead? And for goodness sake, the heart is but the size of a clenched fist…it can never accommodate endless deserts and oceans.
The butterfly is a flying insect not always as magnificently colourful as many people think it is. The sparrow is a diminutive bird that gets swept away by gales and strong winds. And gryphons only belong to mythologies and fantasy novels. I ought to leave them there, where they belong.
Peace, freedOm and love are merely abstract and intangible entities which humans give a name to.”
For a second time, the boy closed his diary. The rainy weather was making his bed seem cosier than ever. He wanted very much to go to sleep, because it brought hopes of dreams…where miracles do happen.
The boy truly believed in miracles. Truly, he did.
It must be a miracle. Finally, there is a sign of movement. A sign of life. Slowly, it clambers out of the ground from its long slumber, ready to face its desolate surroundings. Then, with an abrupt leap and wings well-spread, it soars to the skies. Like a butterfly fluttering in the air. Like a sparrow drifting in the winds. Like a gryphon riding in the clouds.
It is peace. It is freedOm. It is love.”
The boy carelessly flung his pen across the table and closed his diary. The gentle whisper of the raindrops beating softly against the windows was making him dreamy. For a minute, he had almost believed in miracles. Feeling rather disgusted that he had almost made a big mistake he had so often warned himself of, he was compelled to write something more attuned to his temperament. He opened his diary and continued with another entry.
“The heart is but a muscle which acts like a pump, dispersing and regulating blood to the rest of the body. The moment it starts beating, it is destined to stop. Nothing lasts forever, and November Rain by Guns n Roses is one hell of a bloody nice song although I never knew hearts could change. What? Did they turn into kidneys instead? And for goodness sake, the heart is but the size of a clenched fist…it can never accommodate endless deserts and oceans.
The butterfly is a flying insect not always as magnificently colourful as many people think it is. The sparrow is a diminutive bird that gets swept away by gales and strong winds. And gryphons only belong to mythologies and fantasy novels. I ought to leave them there, where they belong.
Peace, freedOm and love are merely abstract and intangible entities which humans give a name to.”
For a second time, the boy closed his diary. The rainy weather was making his bed seem cosier than ever. He wanted very much to go to sleep, because it brought hopes of dreams…where miracles do happen.
The boy truly believed in miracles. Truly, he did.
posted by sUmmEr heAt at 10:20 AM
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