I have decided that I will share a portion of each week’s writing on Fridays, in order to spur me on to actually write something worth reading. Well, I suppose you readers will be the judge of what is worth reading in the end, but that’s another whole kettle of fish.
So this is a little piece that I wrote as I sat halfway down the stairs to the beach yesterday morning, in all its unedited glory. The prompt for the day was to write a piece in which three objects exist at the beginning and only one at the end. Keep in mind that I had barely slept the night before, so take everything I say with a grain of salt. I actually found my hand writing words that I never intended, and had nothing to do with the subject, such as writing “foe” when I meant “dwelling place.” Bizarre the way our minds (mal)function, isn’t it?
So anyway, here we go:
A boy flies his kite at the edge of the ocean. The wind pulls the kite string out of his hand and tosses the kite end over end until a tree catches it and holds it fast, tattering the sails and snarling the string. The boy will go home and say that the kite is gone.
Someday, too, the boy will be gone. Maybe he will grow old and die in his sleep. Maybe he will grow up, cut his shaggy hair, and put on a uniform, only to be tossed end over end in tatters when he takes a false step. Maybe as he watches his kite fly away from him, a rogue wave will catch him and pull him out to sea.
Then you might say only the ocean remains. Only the ocean, with its continuous waves and infinite horizon, comes to no end.
Yet, does anything truly cease to exist? The boy may say his kite is gone, but in reality it still hangs from the tree. The wind batters it, and the sun and rain leach most of the color, but it is still the same kite, only in a different state.
When the boy dies, will he cease to exist? His body will be eaten by worms or beasts, will leach into the soil, the water, and the air, but the molecules of him will still be there. His soul will depart, but only to find its eternal and irrevocable dwelling place. He will not be gone, any more than his kite is gone. He will only be out of reach, and in a different state.
And so it is with all things.
Again, I was half asleep when I wrote this. At least half asleep. I haven’t edited it, and I don’t believe it is profound. I just thought it was an interesting thing to think about.