“Don’t play yourself out of the game.”
A black bird, which looked like a crow, was gliding alone through the sky. Gliding? This caught my eye. I blocked the sun with my hand and watched it. It then suddenly tucked its wings in and rolled onto its back, its pointed beak leading the way as it began to dive down. Suddenly it unraveled its wings and effortlessly rolled back upright, catching its fall, and continuing to glide repeating this maneuver several time as it cascaded across the sky, flipping itself around with nothing but what can only be described of as joy. I’ve never seen a crow have fun before, or any animal for that matter entertain itself while so isolated and unprovoked.
Two friends were playing a game, and one kept losing. The losing one was not enjoying losing, and complained, “Why do you even play this game, it’s so trivial and pointless anyways?”
The winning friend retorted, “It’s all about skill and strategy. It looks simple but it’s actually really complex; you just have to be good at it.”
The losing friend shrugged his shoulders. “It’s just a game.”
They continued playing until the losing friend won a game and threw his arms up. “Yes, I’m finally winning!”
The other friend shrugged his shoulders, “It’s just a game.” And set up another round.
A strange young man from far away
With clothing ragged, torn, and frayed,
Approached a maiden by the bay
Whereon the grassy shore she lay.
He kissed her hand and asked if they
Could dance beside the ocean’s spray.
Before she spoke, a soothing wave
Of pleasure and contentment paved
A trail they followed to the shade
Wherein he held her, and they swayed,
And formed their love from hallowed clay.
With him, she would not fall astray,
Or end up lost and in a daze.
Amazed, she questioned, “If I may;
Why dost thou act in such display?”
“My precious flow’r, you needn’t gray
And troubled skies for one to aid
Thee and surmise that no bouquet
Would serve a prize or could convey
Behind your eyes of radiant jade
What passion lies that we have made.
The ways of old, I have betrayed,
And thus thy wishes I obey.”
And then for every smile she made,
A rose he set across her gaze.
Each star above that they surveyed,
He kissed her cheek in doting play.
And if her lips did give him praise,
He furnished her a tender phrase.
They huddled ‘neath the moonlit haze
‘Til dew-drops claimed the break of day,
But morning wrought a somber shay.
His eyes were clouded, glazed, and gray.
Now old and weakened, down he lay.
She quivered as he withered away,
And watched wearily, his soul fade
With nothing more than this to say,
“Remember passion—love; I pray.
My dearest one, I long to stay,
But Fate binds me to my dismay.
I grieve no act, but parting ways,
As my wish was love for just one day.”