The Robin


A bird falls from a tree, fleeing into a world unknown to itself.

Time warps in this moment, twisting and turning to meet the perspective of the small creature.

Seconds for most, turn into a millennia in the split of an eye, creating a torturous pause in the line of time.

Fear passes through the small being, pumping his heart past the limit of what is expected, pounding against the frail bones that holds him together. For a moment, all is silent, only tiny rattles of flesh and bone coursing through the air.

A few flaps of his wings causes a glimmer of hope, as an immovable object courses through his feathers, swirling him around into a spiral.

Yet, he doesn’t stop his plea to the wind. Foolishly he still attempts to save his life.

As he continues to fall, his mind becomes that of a dark fog, twirling until his sight fades.

Round and round he goes. Soon his eyes begin to water, as the forces of nature push his insides to the edge of capacity. Streaks quickly form around the red silhouette of his face. Tracers marking the struggle from gravity itself.

Blindly, the small robin continues to fight against the forces sending him to his death. Flapping its newly formed wings, still fresh from never being used, they stand no chance of a victory.

A whimper can be heard, from his attempt to take flight, or the fear building rapidly inside the poor thing, I do not know. In a split second there is no time for deduction.

It grows, becoming louder with every ill fated to exert its will on the immovable wind stream around him.

In an instant, the red blur screams, causing pause to all around who had not noticed the spectacle going on mere feet from them.

The sound crackles through the air, splitting off into all directions, echoing into eternity. As if creating a footprint into the universe, marking his life with a furious battle cry.

In that moment, a fire engulfed the young robin. Something deep inside the soul of the robin exploded into existence, blooming into a beauty that burned into the hearts of all that were around.

A sight to behold, surely.

The squirming sound of desperation soon faded from the lungs that were nearly out of oxygen, replaced by something truly magnificent. Something created long before the creatures time.

Determination was in the air, a fighting battle cry of will now clear. An ancient will to live now powered the wings that a moment before, could do nothing to save him.

Fiercely, he began to push back the will of gravity, slowing his decent gradually.

As I watch, I say a small prayer of hope for him, his will filling me with a love not found in a long time.

His spiral stops completely, sending him into a nose dive. But there is no fear. There is no thumping of heart against bone. Instead, there is something new.

Confidence has filled the young robin.

I have never seen an angel. Nor do I expect to in this lifetime.

I have seen a shadow of one though.

A moment of time once again stopped in an instance, as the red rose split its wings above me. I wanted to cry. I wanted to create something beautiful from this moment, yet in that split of time, all I could do was marvel.

And then he was gone. Life returning to the mundane, not remembering the beauty of will it just tried to erase.

In the distance, a battle cry can be heard.

A smile soon reaches my face.


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