Beeps In The Mind

He was the reason of my nomadic life from which I found pleasure in. I wandered and wandered; from gardens to gardens, villages to towns and sometimes from the woods to valleys.  And now, when I fix my little legs in that place, which by birth, is his native and not mine, I expected his face among the strangers I met. Many smiling faces, many faces mysterious past by but none of them was him. Everything was the same, as he explained; the weather, the flowers, the taste of nectar and so on.  Time has its reworks implied, but I can remember his words that date back to a time when I was a tiny caterpillar inside a chrysalis. I grew fast pumping his voice to my soul. Now that I got my wings to flutter and seek out, but I couldn't find him in any of the places I visited. Where is he? Am I late to reach here? When thinking about the average span of life that we flies normally have, it’s not small a transformation, from a caterpillar to a butterfly. But I am he

I looked all over the grass bunches; on the leaves and near the shoot, for the morning dew drop which then slipped through my fingertips. Where did it go? Yes, the final destination should be the wet soil that is to enrich the soul of a living being. But before that it should cling somewhere, reflecting the beauty of the “just woken up” tiny greens. And then, I saw it moving slowly; from the tip of a leaf it slithered to the next leaf and finally into the stomach of a tiny plant. In that small dew drop, there is a part of the sun, a part of the ocean, smiles and tears as in any life. And now, it has served its purpose and will be back again in some form to continue the never ending journey of birth and death.  Hope you would like this analogy  too!  Image Credits: Pixabay