Untitled: by Zareh
Nothingness. Just peacefulness that I know I will never again experience. It is nearly dark, yet there is a soft illumination that allows me to see. What am I? What is my purpose? I want to have a purpose, to be something, someone, important.
I feel movement. I am not moving, but that in which I am encased is. Time. What is it? What good does it do to ponder the length of the day which has passed? Time has no meaning, as I have no meaning.
The light grows brighter now. I am slowly moving towards the brightness. I feel warmth. I am being expelled from that which encased me. I can see. All around me are trees
, with bark a dull and almost lifeless brown.
Green tips are scattered over brittle twigs that flow into branches. I am a green tip. I am a leaf. I now have a purpose. I reason to live. I am to collect the rays of the sun, so that the tree may eat and thrive. I now serve as one in the community.
Time still has no meaning, and yet things are changing. I have grown and unfurled to my fullest potential. I enjoy being a ray collector, of serving, but grow weary of my post. I want to shove off from the twig that holds me up high. But I can’t. I am tethered.
I am weary now. My task is completed. I have done my job well, yet received no recognition. I long to be free, to do as I wish. I wish to dance through the air. I linger between a golden yellow and a vibrant crimson, a prima ballerina just waiting for a chance.
A strong gust blows by and I embrace it. I am gently lifted and blown about, wishing I could follow its magnificent path, unhindered and free. A second gust comes, stronger, and finally, my tether is severed.
I am free, none can hold me. Gravity is but a word, a notion. Nothing can stop me as I fly, floating in a winding river of air. I do not resist, but move with it, twirling and dancing. Suddenly, the wind ceases and all is still. Then slowly, I fall. Freefall. This is freedom. Nothing holds me up. Nothing pushing me left or right, or even down. I can go wherever I please. As I begin my slow descent, I do one last thing. I put my whole being into it and start to spin. A blur of gold and crimson, I spin and glide as a ballerina to the floor.
I have served my purpose. I was part of something great. I made a difference.
A little girl stops to pick me up, and twirls me about between her fingers. She smiles and exclaims how pretty I am. Then she carefully places me between the pages of her book, and I know that to her I am very special.