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


Creative Commons License

Friday, January 29, 2010

Alone on a Hill Top

All alone on a hill top,
Somewhere under a billion stars,
Trying to comprehend,
What does it all mean?
           
Feeling so insecure,
Like two of me here,
Arguing at my interpretations,
Of this mystery called existence.
       
A yellow moon rises slowly,
From behind flickering clouds,
Purple,
They are flecked with a red tinge,
Moved slowly by the wind,
The hint of the light in this darkness,
A hint of the truth in their lies.


 Another night poem around 1990. I would go to my favourite hill overlooking the moors - trying to reconcile my insignificance and yet my importance in the Universe. And why there seemed to be so many people living a lie about what is important in life and trying to convince me to buy into their way of seeing things.
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