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Drops of life
Express yourself in the fiction and fantasy section.
"Where are we going? What is the aim of our life?" Everybody, I guess, wonders such metaphysical questions. And if everybody does not, actually I do.
When I look at my own life, I would like to see it as a river. A calm and powerful river that goes on its way with elegance and confidence. A river strong enough not to be hurt by rocks but not so deep as to prevent feeling everything it touches. I would like to imagine this river of my life with sunny moments and with a soft wind, which breathes on it to help me to progress.
Sometimes I find trees on its coast; they drink its water and shelter it in exchange. Children feel secure enough to swim here and their laughter help us to keep going. On the way the river naturally meets some dirty people and their pollution is a wound. But this river is solid enough to bear such attacks. It is wise as well, wise enough to not respond and to forget any idea of revenge. Such a river would be useful and give water to those who need some. Such a life would be my ideal.
Alas, when I look over my life, I cannot compare it to a river, nor to a rivulet. My life looks more like a downpour. I want to touch everything but each drop loses itself, everywhere and anywhere. People run away. Hard to be liked when you look so grey and so cold. Thus I cry. I cry more and more, and my sadness creates disaster everywhere I go. Hard to be appreciated. Feelings of uselessness. Feelings of loneliness. Feelings of powerlessness. A life that looks darker and darker.
Until I hear a voice. A peasant who thanks me for giving water to his fields. Maybe I can serve someone. But I still do not control all these drops that fall and fall everywhere. I cannot choose. It is like that. Nature gave me a gift, the gift of giving water back to the earth but without the power to choose where I offer this water.
Another day, a poet with a smile tells me how beautiful I look with a coloured rainbow above me. The sun is a precious friend. Light and happy I fly on a wind's wave to give water elsewhere.
In my heart I keep secret my hope to one day become not a river, but a fountain. A place where children will drink and play. A source for streams that will become rivers and live as I wish them to live. A fountain to share my thirst of life!
By: Marion Legrand
