Hey!
So this is just a short 'story' (if you could call it that!) inspired from a word a guy gave me this evening. To some it might just be wacky-weird and nonsensical. But... I'm okay with that! Please take from it what you will, I know for me right now, it means something pretty great and important. From the metaphor in this 'story' I felt it needed to be shared, and I hope you feel peace from it.
C.
P.s Also at the bottom there is a link to a brilliant song, which might make this post make more sense, it's still wonderful, check it out?
P.s Also at the bottom there is a link to a brilliant song, which might make this post make more sense, it's still wonderful, check it out?
Matthew 5:8-9
"Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God.
Upon the shelf of her disorganised dresser sat several glass
containers, each holding within themselves a liquid of senses. They stood about
an inch and a half high, with bottled tops ready for spritzing. She prized them
all. For within each was more than just a different smell, it was a different
evoked thought, a different gift, a different feeling, yet none ever last for
long.
In her disarray of Monday mornings, she would save herself time
to choose wisely of her aqueous ally. Each day was marked by her early
expectations, as she attempted to arm herself for today’s battle through the feuding field of puppetry.
One day when she awoke from her slumber, a dusty glint
caught her eye. Upon the wooden windowsill stood a different glass bottle, a
bottle of esteem, and exuding with vintage flair, caught the glare of the sun
through the window, which in its focussed beam immediately lifted the dust from the glass
in a clear haze.
There, was her old perfume, in its old bottle, with its withering
atomizer, the liquid inside mature.
She walked over and lifted the bottle from its bondage with the saturated
ring mark upon the glossy sill, and enclosed her fist around the pump as if she
were holding the hilt of a sword. She breathed the colour of maturity in, and
heard the shape of the droplets sing into her lungs.
This is what she had needed, all of what she needed was contained within this bottle of life. It wasn't just a scent; it was a fragrance
that marked her future. The longer it was left, the more it would temper to
become what she needed for the next day and then the next.
Yet it never ran dry.
Long gone now are the superficial spritzers, the tiny
testers. No longer does she need them. She knows now that what she has comes
from a greater understanding. Within that mix of liquid she found upon the
windowsill that day, was enough for her and another, and another. Within it all, there was something different to be felt by each individual.
A greater source was found, greater than her own
collaborations of attempts.
