Baggages.
It's amazing how things can change as you walk. Like how a heavy bag can slowly warp in upon itself, it's canvas skin taking on a golden hue and powdery texture. It's contents dissolving, and then evaporating, and then transforming into an opalescent white vapour that is as firm as stone and yet lighter than air. But the first thing you notice is the weight. The weight is decreasing, little by little.
As the boy walk down this new and unexplored road he could feel the warping baggage upon his shoulders. Shifting and changing with each step. Pieces of it break off, attached by but a thin thread, and floats behind.
They drift after him, pulled by the thread and accumulate in numbers, slowly breaking off from the bag upon his shoulders.
But quite suddenly, without warning, the threads snap and he looks around just in time to see butterflies. A golden swarm. The threads have been snapped, the webs torn, the butterflies are flying away.
His shoulder still aches, but it is not the ache that comes from having a strong weight press down on one's shoulders. It is the ache that comes when that very same weight has been removed. He smiles, lies under a tree, and enjoys the sight.
PEACE OUT
ps. Thanks to EVERYONE who has helped me cut off the strings.
It's amazing how things can change as you walk. Like how a heavy bag can slowly warp in upon itself, it's canvas skin taking on a golden hue and powdery texture. It's contents dissolving, and then evaporating, and then transforming into an opalescent white vapour that is as firm as stone and yet lighter than air. But the first thing you notice is the weight. The weight is decreasing, little by little.
As the boy walk down this new and unexplored road he could feel the warping baggage upon his shoulders. Shifting and changing with each step. Pieces of it break off, attached by but a thin thread, and floats behind.
They drift after him, pulled by the thread and accumulate in numbers, slowly breaking off from the bag upon his shoulders.
But quite suddenly, without warning, the threads snap and he looks around just in time to see butterflies. A golden swarm. The threads have been snapped, the webs torn, the butterflies are flying away.
His shoulder still aches, but it is not the ache that comes from having a strong weight press down on one's shoulders. It is the ache that comes when that very same weight has been removed. He smiles, lies under a tree, and enjoys the sight.
PEACE OUT
ps. Thanks to EVERYONE who has helped me cut off the strings.
