Jonathan Livingston Seagull

“They are saying in the Flock that if you are not the Son of the Great Gull Himself”, Fletcher told Jonathan one morning after Advanced Speed Practice, “then you are a thousand years ahead of your time.”
Jonathan sighed. The price of being misunderstood he thought. They call you devil or they call you god. “What do you think, Fletch? Are we ahead of our time?”
A long silence, “Well, this kind of flying has always been here to be learned by anyone who wanted to discover it; that’s got nothing to do with time. We’re ahead of the fashion, maybe. Ahead of the way that most gulls fly.”“That’s something,” Jonathan said, rolling to glide inverted for a while. “That’s not half as bad as being ahead of our time”.
Richard Bach
Jonathan Livingston Seagull

The Seagull Speaks Creative Commons Copyright

Sunday, December 2, 2012

What Dreams are These?




Walking alone on the moors,
With the wind in a word of wonder.
Why?
What dreams are these that hang in the air like clouds?
Broken up by a few rays of sunlight,
Shining through rain drops,
Making a rainbow,
Gripping a hand, 
Pulling on fingers,
Dancing in palms,
Outstretched to the blooming sky,
Above the trees,
Through the air,

On rocks,
Hard,
As rain falling on spring flowers.

A damp day,
Inside a cave,
Looking out on heaven,
Below me. 



Written April 20, 1997
When visiting the Somerset levels -
A special place for me
Where I grew up.