Have you seen that look
before? You shake your head.
It's the look no human soul can
conjure falsely; it is the look of a
thousand dying poets; the look of
quiet falling stars and red; blood
red; crimson red; strawberry red,
too. It is the look of many things, things
we vociferous birds cannot understand fully.
It is quiet, we are not. And the only way to hear
it is to stop and listen, which is something I
fear very few are willing to do. He nods. But he
doesn't understand, still. I sigh lightly. You see it there?
Hidden in the left-hand corner of her lips? There it is!
Clear as day, bright as night--a radiant recluse.
The only beautiful thing that makes sense to me.
Yet, sadly, the only thing most people miss inside
their diamond minds. Careful creatures forget to speak
and foolish ones neglect to listen. Stop, I tell him.
Close those ocean eyes for one moment and listen.
Can you hear it, I ask him. Can you hear the
dreams of a thousand quiet birds? Asking for nothing
yet, giving us everything? Don't be afraid, I whisper.
His eyes crunch up for a moment and then one single
tear drips from his eye like glistening honey.
You are finally listening.
-k.p.b.
