the meaning of life, a photographic story

Like a lost bird I winged carelessly with no particular direction in mind, enjoying the breeze and taking time to take in the view. Something had to slow me down, keep me still for a while so I could figure it out. I couldn’t just keep floating along with no clear path. It’s hard to get somewhere when you don’t know how to get there. This bird could think of flying all he wanted but he wasn’t sure where to go. So he just sat there and thought about it.

And so did I.

Enjoying the view.

Dreaming dreams, hoping for things, and soaking in moonbeams.

Pondering, wondering, wandering while the moon listened.

Like, why some leaves turn orange, and others yellow or red. And why red seemed to be my favorite. But why not purple or blue?  So much time spent trying to figure out the meaning of all that is life.

But then the leaves have fallen, winter drifts in and lingers a while. Another year fares us well. The sun rises with promise of renewal.

With fresh memories of fields of butterflies that new love sent fluttering.

There are prickly parts every now and then. It does us well to also remember them.

Last summer we walked through a desert garden, while the bird thought of flying, thinking but going nowhere. It seems like a lifetime ago but yet not that long ago now. We’ve come quite a long way since then.

The tree let the bird rest a while. It was a tree that stopped us… that told me to slow down long enough to realize

that a change needed to be made. To understand the things that are truly important. And to know that I have not fully done all I need to in this life.

Now a countdown til the day I can fly again. Til we can fly again. This time knowing, and an idea of direction. I will still dream dreams and hope for things but I will not wing wildly, carelessly.

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