Drabble
He didn’t say, “I’m hungry,” because really, he wasn’t.
He didn’t say, “Come find me,” because honestly, he wasn’t sure if there was ever anyone else. Maybe he was the only one, and this was how it’d always been.
He didn’t say, “I’m lonely,” because he didn’t know it was any different from, “I am.” At least until one day a bird fluttered by, vibrant and ephemeral. He didn’t say a word, but his heart was silently screaming.
~*~*~*~
He finally understood what he was supposed to do.
It wasn’t much: just be. Not, be sanctimonious, or be somber, or even be righteous. But with wisdom, ironically enough, came insanity, and on his first eve of inner peace in a very long time, came a tremulous voice.
He couldn’t measure it in volume, but in intensities; it wasn’t from a direction, so much as it was a pull; it wasn’t even a completely foreign entity because something within his soul roused at its familiarity. The voice was a feeling he knew, of utter yearning.
It didn’t cry out in any tongue, but he understood it just the same.
He didn’t say, “Come find me,” because honestly, he wasn’t sure if there was ever anyone else. Maybe he was the only one, and this was how it’d always been.
He didn’t say, “I’m lonely,” because he didn’t know it was any different from, “I am.” At least until one day a bird fluttered by, vibrant and ephemeral. He didn’t say a word, but his heart was silently screaming.
~*~*~*~
He finally understood what he was supposed to do.
It wasn’t much: just be. Not, be sanctimonious, or be somber, or even be righteous. But with wisdom, ironically enough, came insanity, and on his first eve of inner peace in a very long time, came a tremulous voice.
He couldn’t measure it in volume, but in intensities; it wasn’t from a direction, so much as it was a pull; it wasn’t even a completely foreign entity because something within his soul roused at its familiarity. The voice was a feeling he knew, of utter yearning.
It didn’t cry out in any tongue, but he understood it just the same.