In Mortal em 031015


A little girl only seven years of age sits in her room. She is kneeling with her feet tucked under and she is thinking . The things that pass through her mind are too mature for the little girl, but she thinks about them anyways. Staring at her baby blue walls thoughts seep through that color young mind. Thoughts of life and death, God and purpose, people and pain…Random strings weaving themselves together. Slowly rising she paces around her room to make sense of it all. There are enough words to articulate the mystery of these things. Trapped in own mind. Moving gingerly towards the window the eyes peep another gray day. And she moves away toward her bed to pray for the answers which she seeks if God may. She prays and she prays until her little knobby knees ache. Collapsing to the ground stretched on the floor she lays and listens. Amongst a mess of books and papers she waits. Transfixed in mystery beholden to wonder. Ponders in the quiet lull of soft pillowing rain. Heavy eyes wear tired. Her little heart beats sound in time with the rain. Sleep crawls by at a snail’s pace. Sleep, baby, sleep. Pray the answers come. Perhaps, they come in the coming of bright eyes and colored minds. Baby, wake. Wake your little eyes embrace the passing of the day. It is your clay mold it and shape it your way. Oh, little baby. Sweet little darling. The girl wakes a bit wiser with a flush of luck tucked into her mind. He did come. He did answer my prayers. I am to live! But if I am to live then why am I to die. And the little girl cried, because she realized her own morality. Her bright brown doe eyes began to swell, her face grew hot and red,and her voice grew coarse. After a while she hushed and played with her black hair. And she got on her knees and thanked her Creator. The little girl realized that she was given the gift of today and the promise of tomorrow. She is the present, as unique and wonderful as a snowflake whose design can be duplicated in any measure of time.

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