Feather

A single feather detached itself from the fluffy belly of the bird flying high up in the clear sky. As it began descending, it wrapped itself and became stiff for the fear of what was to come next. It began drooping, as air  whizzed past it at blinding speeds and the heat generated by friction began burning it's skin.

Just then, sapped of all its energy, the feather gave up and embraced the inevitable fall. As it loosened its stiffened stand, a miraculous thing happened. As soon as it spread out its arms into the air, the rapidity of it's descend decreased rapidly. It started floating dreamily, as if dusting an imaginary hemispherical bowl in the air. The very air that was scorching its skin was now cushioning its fall, making it more delightful and pleasurable.

What a great thing to do? To let your arms wide and fall , fall with no care of where you are headed to. Fall, with the notion that you will never hit the ground. Fall, with no thought of falling but a smile on the face. Fall, and let everything else happen on its own.

The feather then saw, as it approached lower altitudes vast oceans, lush green fields and the rising and falling mountains as if teasing it to come and touch it. Much more it saw as it kept drifting from one place to the other. Lightly, with no baggage but itself, it moved all over the world, lapping up the agonies and ecstasies of everything around it. It would settle for some time at a place and then upon the slightest of whiff, rise up to go to another abode. Darting here and there like the pretty butterfly.

Don't you wish you could be as the feather ? How I wish to move freely, dart here and there, with no care for anything in the world. How I wish to let things happen and then see what I can do about them ? How I wish to settle and move and settle again only to move yet again.

Dainty butterfly,

now low, now high !

~