Hidden Perspective

In light of the recent storms I was inspired to write this story…it encompasses a bit of danger that is why I categorised it, “under-land“. But is it about a storm? I’ll let you decide…

There across the road lies a hill.

The hill is unimportant, there is grass covering the hill. The blanket of grass is unimportant, there is a cow on the hill. The cow’s moos are unimportant. There is a house on the hill. That shed is unimportant, you see it is unimportant. There is a family living in that shed so-called house. That mother is unimportant, there is a father feeding the baby. The father and baby are unimportant. It is a sunny day, the weather is unimportant. It is sunny, the father feeds the baby, with the mother that lives in a house, where a cow moo’s, who all live on a hilltop, that is covered in grass, across from the road, in a made-up world.

Which living organism in this story is most important? The weather sets to a sudden change.

A flood comes, the shed hums, the mum runs. The thunder crashes, coils and cracks. The measly shed goes tap tap tap. The child drinks the milk in the bottle, the father holds her closer and tightens the nozzle. The grass lay low as the water fills up the hill, brimming to the sky. The cow now flew through the salty water up high.

There is nothing that could be said, nothing to do. The minutes leak by. It is all over so soon. For the worth of life is for the living. Those gone are soon forgotten except in a quick news reading. How many lost, stranded or fled, how many died in that quaint little shed. The vacancy of life is never felt, for as minutes pass the masses enormously replenish itself.

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