It was a nice parkânot much really caught one's eye though. It was fairly big and had paths to walk through, a truly average park. No, it is not the park that one's gaze would lock onto, but rather the life within it. Every blade of grass, every flower and tree, each person, animal and even the equipment seemed to be more than what they were. You see, this park is alive.
It wailed loudly as if it was singing a serenade. At the entrance of the park was a sign welcoming pedestrians, urging them inside. The sounds the people were making weren't human; their voices were one with the park. Each and every blade of green whipped lightly, causing both smooth and abrupt cuts in the lulling beat.Â
Fliers and posters screeched and pestered, but so softly that they seemed to accent the lullaby like high notes on a flute. Birds were bringing in a low hum, squirrels would occasionally ring, and dogs would bark as if playing drums. Leaves whistled and brought with them a whiff of fresh life.
The invading fragrance of cloud tears and the footprints left in the wake of a mower combined to make the grass a regal cologne. You could tell the dogs were jealous, the way they rolled around in it, desperate for even a lick of the fine scent for their own fur.Â
Fire ate through lighter fluid and sent the scent of sizzling steak to waft through the air, causing a different kind of waft to materialize. Enzymes in trees and plants were intoxicated and catalyzed with carbon dioxide to produce an overwhelmingly abundant fresh aroma of oxygen, the color green, and even the essence of life itself.
It was strange really, how one simple park could seem as if it were a place found in a storybook. It was beautiful, serene, autonomous, real; it was conscious. The trees danced, and the leaves swirled about. They never hit others, merely whirled around them.Â
The squirrels held sweet innocence, squirreling around, without a worry in their world, laughing and playing gleefully. If it weren't for the nuts puffing out one critterâs cheeks, a passerby might think that they were playing tag rather than keep away.
Keeping away, the clouds were, anyway. The sun showered over the park, knitting a heavy, yet bright and warm blanket that the inhabitants basked and cuddled in. The blanket sent glistening radiant gold messages through, telling every existence that everything was okay now; it would protect them, by making every wee little thing just a tiny bit better. Rays reached out, frantically trying to cover the whole park, to deliver the uplifting newsâso that nothing would miss it. Things were going to get better; the sun was to make sure of it.
If you followed the shiny radiation, you could see the places it couldn't reach. Down the path, entering the forest, the flora would address you with superficial sweetness as if to egg you in. Entering down, following the flowing steam, it becomes dark. The sun cannot reach the inner heart. The river cried into a plunge basin, the earth soaking in its pain.Â
There were small leeches, cannibal fish, and mosquitoes buzzing by, sapping away any happiness, warmth and compassion left by the blanket from outside. It was achingly beautiful, delicate, fragile, and lost. Chills flew though beings here, spreading lies along with the humidity formed from the river's pain. They feed only the wickedest of falsehoods. One must not stay for long.
It is the self that cheats one out of its own potential. If only the light would touch upon it, it would indeed be a rare and priceless moment where all self-hate would bloom into love and acceptance. Toxic would meld into a cure, like a vaccine. That moment; however, was not to be. The trees surrounding were cooled at the trunks, stretching up to hog the cherished heat. They yearned but failed to grasp complete tendernessâshowing it to others while hiding their pain on the inside.
But even inner pain could hold the significance to bring about the elegance, allure, and charm of life that dwells within the rest of the forest estate, weaved throughout the garden playground. The sun knew; the flowers knew; the sign knew; the dogs knew; the light knew; the grass knew; the people knew; the squirrels knew; the leaves knew. The park knew.Â
All of them spent their days living in full, in return for being granted the right to live in full. Each and every day they played, sang, danced, beckoned, and called out to their inner core. The shadows within might be cynical and cruel. They are blind to the love and care they receive, but it is there, and it will stay there. The park would move on. It will never fail to breathe, to be passionate; to worry. That is because this park you see before you is in motionâit is alive.
