The Old Soul
I witnessed
compassionate humanity even if from a bit of distance. Before me, an
extraordinary play unfolded, emoting unmatched joy. A child named Lyly filtered into me. She
revealed hope for everyone. Mingled within us, is an elevated soul, existing
only as light, like an ethereal gift, immersed in goodness. One hot summer day
in a park, I saw her catch odd movement under massive pine tree. She lightly wafted over ever so quietly.
There she saw a squirrel beneath the
tree.
Squirrels being tiny, generally bolt away from anything larger than,say, a
squirrel. This squirrel struggled mightily to escape. Just like they all always
do. Lyly didn't expect to get closer than a long way off. He confused her. She
drew nearer, then nearer still. No one gets too close to one these skittish
scurrying critters. Upon a closer look, Lyly’s confusion crystalized, taking
form in a certain troubled sorrow.
Nothing belonged to Lyly, she belonged to
everything. Her squirrel couldn't scamper away, for his hind legs couldn't
move. He scratched with his forelegs, desperate. Frenzied. Fearful. Futile.
Bewildered by his body's failure. Watching, her sorrow deepened. Without words,
she looked at the sky, closed her eyes, then cast her essence over the
squirrel. They looked at each other. Each of them knew what she did not want to
know.