Final Days

Pools of rain settle into the back of my mind.  The storm hushes the human wreckage.  A lone Joao de Barro bird bounces along the ledge outside my window, sipping drops of water, pecking at moss between the cracks, continuing its bouncing traverse across the ledge.  All this action, a beautifully crafted lie.  The true purpose for the exposition is hidden inside the protection of old lair of  Joao De Barro himself.  The Joao De Barro spies his abandoned nest, delicately constructed in the corner between the marble ledge and the window.  Soon after vacating the igloo shipped structure, the intricate nest crafted of dried grass, was inhabited by a much smaller bird.  This smaller variety of sparrow soon developed its own nest, weavings of sticks and plants, within the Joao De Barro nest.  Now the small bird has two fresh hatchlings just starting to peck around the outside of the nest.  Cautiously preparing their way towards first flight.  The Joao de Barro comes for them.  

The predatory bird takes another three bounds and moves in for the attack.  Across the courtyard the smaller mother bird comes dashing through the sky and pounds its tiny tennis ball sized body into the larger bird, and a tangled ball of feathers falls from the ledge as the mother succesfully protects her nest.  A glimpse into the synergetic flow of nature awaits just beyond the window.  

The awesome beauty of nature is all around us, fighting to stay alive amidst the human destruction.  New condiminums replace the lush rain forest down the beach.  A Joao De Barro losses his nest.  Fishing nets take the majestic sea turtle and toss her back to the sea to rot.  Only to wash to the shore and be neglected in her departure from this realm.  She is gone now – beyond the cosmos in a place of peace.  I wanted to swim today, but the brown sheen on the water stank of human waste, pouring from the sad rivers into the sea after a fresh rain.  

Melancholy washes over me, for the turtle was once me and I was once her.  The river pouring from the forest knows my true name.  “How can I save all this?”  I ask myself.  Is there still chance to save this precious land?  Perhaps the best that can be done is find a piece of the earth still thriving and protect it with all the force I have within my being.  Form a deep bond with the land and let my body stand for as long as the roots grow deep.    

The Island in British Colombia, with impenetrable primeval forests, where clean rushing rivers flow into crystal lakes full of life. My soul reflection lies deep within the lakes, shining through the dark blue waters.  

My days in Brazil are moving too fast, I try to slow them, but the chisel keeps hacking away the pillar of time.  The crystal waters become clouded and I can’t swim anymore.  A luxury apartment is soon complete – perhaps his wife will be content at last. 

Now it is time for me to go.  One last chance in this vibrant land, a quest to the heart; where the rivers converge, where the crystals fall in great cascades from the ancient canyons, and the macaws sing their song over the magnificent alien plane.  

Tonight… the music takes us away.  Tonight we let the music fill the soul, like the yogi lets the eternal breath fill the lungs.  The music is the Prana of my souls delight.  

Tonight we dance to infinity.