Your Own World
You live on your own world of grass and mud, of suns and moons, of tall trees and deep holes. You think you own this place, this world where you stomp and strut upon the magic with your mud-caked boots.
You sit in your hole and are either oblivious and blind to the pain around you or in complete despair, believing the job of healing is now way beyond your hand.
But every once in a while the magic somehow reaches up and finds you, even though you thought it buried deep long ago. This time it is a tree that touches you as you see it growing where is should not grow.
Here, at this very moment, you stop and say out-loud to yourself, "maybe, just maybe, this world does not live or die because of me." And it comes out as not quite a question and not quite a statement. And in this very moment you find that to love this World of yours is all you can and need to do.
-- Owl
"Your Own World"
11" x 14" graphite and color pencil
Profoundly thought provoking.
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