A small flower growing out of a stone quivers high above the worn paths. Its fragrance drifts down shore where a young woman is contemplating suicide, & something in the hint of flower lifts her depressed head for a moment, but the fragrance dissipates, & she sinks again, staring at the waves, wondering why. The scent is picked up by a gull, matted in its feathers. It makes the gull fly wildly through the only cloud, through the white center of nothing. An old man in a fishing boat is stunned by the swift charge of the gull into open sky. He relaxes his net, & underneath the shadow of the boat, the tangled angelfish squirm free….Mark Nepo
our shared suffering allows us to feel compassion….made even more gentle & poignant when the fragile bits sprout from the rock….when the hardened heart softens….when we are humbled by our small world….
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