At first glance the diver only saw pink coral. She took out a camera and began to take photos for the magazine. After she had enough shots she drew closer to feel it. Something moved. Frozen in place she observed for a few minutes, then like one of those fancy trick 3D pictures she began to see something else. There was a pygmy seahorse with it's tail wrapped around the coral, its camouflage was so much like it's surroundings that just melted from view the second she stopped focusing on where it was. Its body was a soft pink was the exact shade of the main stems but it had darker pink lumps on it just like its home.
You've got what it takes. The greatest leaders in history had great big hearts such as yours, but they were realists too. They could use cold logic up against the worst of sociopaths, against those whom only crave money and power. Then, in a twinkle of an eye they are the beloved spirit of goodness everyone trusted and adored. Motives matter. Integrity and intention is everything. That you can dismiss intention to see the basic motives of the primitive brain, then layer on top the angelic motivations, control the former an encourage the latter, there's your true power. It's the power of love and all will fall before it because they want to. They want you to bring an orderly world of love and peace. So, be a hero, lead on.
Blind from birth, the spring was all about the sounds, the tastes and the rising air temperature for Mila. With keen awareness of the frigidity of winter rain, she knew before her keen sighted friends when the winter season was in transition. She felt the breeze kiss her more warmly and let her hands explore the overhanging branches of neighbourhood trees to find the swelling buds- buds that would soon crack open to release the soft papery leaves within.The myriad of verdant hues from the grass to the leaves above were lost to her; but their gentle fragrance never was. She would take a new lush blade or leaf and rub it between her fingers, releasing its perfume. She knew the flowers of her neighbourhood by their scents, either that which they released to the damp air or by crushing a petal to release the aromatic sap. She knew the call of each bird species and marked the progress of the season with their song.
My sadness is a hollowness. I can't tell you what's worse. Sometimes my hollowness is a shell, holding in a thousand oceans of tears. Sometimes though, it holds a thousand pieces of glass that are wedged in between my soul and body. That's the pain. Sometimes though, like when I had my first kiss, kissing that beautiful girl I tasted something like rotten fruit. I had kept my eyes open so all I could see was freckles. Or when my cat died and I didn't cry. I just stood there. Or when everybody laughed and I couldn't bring myself to do it. That's the scariest thing. Sometimes I am somebody, somebody in pain and sadness. But sometimes I nobody, and I don't seem to feel. I don't seem to exist at all...
If the right to breathe clean air and grow vegetables not covered in pollutants is higher than the right to drive a car, then we have a powerful path to victory. Our rights to ongoing and sustainable living all over our planet must trump the so-called rights of others to make money or have convenience where the result is an obvious threat to the ecological life-support systems we all share. It's time to be real grown ups about this and find the will to put the future of our children above our own desires and wants.
The spring, she comes to give her bounty to all her children, setting the example that we give to one another. She sends her rain and warm wind to kiss the rich brown soils, to waken the seeds and sing to them as they grow. She blesses the skies with more of our winged brethren, from the mighty eagle to the firefly. The flowers come, each one so much more than any photograph, delicate and strong. And in this time of newness we fill our lungs to fullness and hear her urging us to run, to feel the power she gives within.
The Kids- Spoken Word
We're the kids nobody knows
We're the kids nobody hears
We're the kids nobody listens too
We don't beat the same drum
We don't sound like the rest
We are not fueled by; greed, lust, and fame
We are fueled by; society's rejection, our rage, and our pain
Because we are not mindless slaves
Our lives don't conform
We are more than we seem
We are not just poor kids with a dream
We are the speakers for the kids words can't be freed
The kids like me, like you
That know the world is insane
And we are not afraid to phrase the truth even if we sound crazed
We are more than you know
We are more than you hear
We are more than you listen too
We are more than our rage
We are more than our pain
We are more than our dreams
And I promise you this is not a phase
These are the thoughts in our brains
That makes our hearts pulsate
That keeps us breathing
and fighting to stay alive
We are the kids nobody knows
We are the kids nobody hears
We are the kids nobody listens to.
I've been alone for so long I've got used to it by now. What's it like to feel alone you may ask? Well, let me tell you. It's like being the only planet in a universe full of stars. It's like being in a crowd yet you're closed off in your own little bubble. One is a choice, the other is not. I guess a part of me chooses to be alone for I am afraid of people. Not afraid of them hurting me but afraid of what they think of me. I know what I need. I need someone to save me from this loneliness, to make me feel worthy and loved, worthy of being loved. I shed a tear at the thought I might always be like this, hidden away in this barren home waiting for time to pass only to find out I'm still alone.
For the first time in her life, she found herself alone. A huddled heap of ripped jeans and torn coats, she sat alone and utterly terrified in the darkness. The dark consumed her frail form. Her mother wasn't there to soothe her fears, nor was Thomas to tell her stories. It was just her, alone in a strange place with strange people.