Again the Gull Cries
Again, the Gulls called out. The man looked up. Gulls with outstretched wings glided free against the vast sky. Winter trees stood naked and vulnerable against the call. There was time to think. The man walked on and his mind turned to victims. Those betrayed in their frail humanity who were vulnerable as the trees.
The man was a thinker. For him all life was one. All sentient being are part of the creation to which, in time, they will return. There was a need to return to nature and to understand that a fragmented society will inevitably structure dangerously fragmented people. He came to a path, people were walking their dogs, squirrels scampered everywhere their tails curled in perpetual questioning. The path was lined with trees and bushes frail and devastated with the cold.
“All that I am is here” an inner voice told him.
The search for wholeness is inevitably a search for oneself. Why are we here? To find the true self sometimes called the soul and then to lead others to be awakened from illusion doubt and fear. The way things seem is not the way things actually are.
The man recalled an idea that god had given humankind stewardship of creation. Throughout the changing periods of history man had reneged on that stewardship time and time again.
A black person walked toward him. They smiled in greeting to each other. Black is a colour and the colour of your skin is not who you are. It is not the true you. Those hating a person for their skin colour, and there are many of them, have their hearts submerged in darkness. All that compromises had been created with equal care and dignity.
The cold seemed to deepen. A blackbird began his lone pulsating call. It was the voice of life heard within life. Slowly he walked on without looking back
George Coombs