SUNLIGHT THROUGH THE TREES

A beautiful golden bird flew frozen into air. It hung approaching a high branch with a little boy hidden there. The wind was motionless too. Nothing here was fast. The leafy greenness seemed exploded like summertime inside glass. All the halted youthful patterns were newly here at last.

The world’s dimensions with its movement were now compressed to stillness. However, to the little boy standing the moment here was endless. It was in this interval, in the treetop, the little boy saw something looking. It was in and around — between and throughout — a parade of sunlight ribbons, the little boy watched Him watching.

He heard his mother calling. He failed to notice the golden bird once again starting.

Everyday he went and searched for the moment that was past. Looking for the secret steps that would bring him back his Friend. Everyday was something new and as he played and played, the seasons gone unnoticed had now already changed.

The little boy now bigger saw the sunlight through the trees. It was the memory of the gentle presence he could never really leave. He was older now and wiser, and there could simply be no mistake. He saw that golden bird again. Now, he knew he was awake.