An Heir To A Thought

Many clouds spoke to me, saying that the rain had dried up. A surprise was asked of me, but I found none waiting. The moon spoke of long ago, when the dew used to reside on the earth, it being the nurturing force in which all drank from. Where did all the birds go, they roaming the heavens looking for shelter from the coldness that follows the weary traveler. How long do I wait for the rain, or should I pack and head for another realm in the universe, free from the chains that enslave them so. A frog told me that he was dyeing, and If I wanted to save him I would have to go on a journey for the nectar of the soil. I ask him where this nectar was, and he did not answer. Seeing how lost I was I thought for a long moment, and then the answer came to me. Happy that I had found it I ran to the frog, only to find that he was dead, his insides being eaten by a strange plaque. I feel into despair, of not being able to provide for this little frog, so what hope do I have for any of my presumed species. A sharp ray glimmered past my eye, it being frozen in time as a revealer of the past presents that have made up the existance that I have known. In this ray was the reflections of people and places that I have encountered, they all having frowns upon there face as they look at me with dim eyes. I told them to seek themselves first before seeking my faults, but they would not listen. It is always this way I suppose. The sky looks so soft and peaceful today, as if not knowing the desolation of ourselves they reside below it, turmoil that we create alone, out of misplaced boredom, I wish I had this type of ignorance, but unfortunately I am fully aware. Joy spoke to me in a dream, but then spit upon me and vanished by day, silly joy, playing like it does with us, filling us halfway, then poking a hole to drain us.