Scene 18

To canvass what must not be dared finds you in a corner—no reliance on the obvious or for what we know is right, sadly. Whether you know the exact right call to action, falling back on the chair knowing opportunity prevails after a touch of hard work and intelligence was soothing. Honorable it be for such opportunity of advancement, you have no choice but to feel grateful. Very fruitful your attempts if failed sometimes appeared to be no accident, and that is where one starts to think, freely. Bees taking their own and showing them how to make honey instead of instinct guiding them was highly frowned upon among the rest of the hive. What about authority? Not the worker bees for they are the most honest, shall I dare continue?

Let us say no one notices, and no one was harmed during the teaching process except for my powerful ego. Now, something else has billowed over everyone else's head, and it burns the skin who gets caught up. A challenge not just anyone can take on to get rid of it, for the chance of survival is slim. That cannot be, in any case? The separation of all that we know to be true is so grand; not just one can be the solution. What if multiple things exist to change the very existence of this pain? Especially when the degrees of this heat cannot be beaten by 100 yards. I will tell you for in my head, I think, only the softest of smells, the kindest of hearts, and the spirituality of peace will prevail all else against our blundering world.

The very Tuesday where I was not playing, a dream crept into my lazy eyes as I wanted a few moments of darkness. The noise from my watch of the minute's tick, lulled me to sleep. Slipping into a deep slumber, my eyes settling to a light flicker if looking hard enough, I start imagining what a world could feel like if I could smell only and never spoke.

Humming's of a shrill voice start to play if ever getting off-topic, I noticed. Not as quiet as one might think, however, if encountered with the same disrespect. Feeling silenced, I did but not dare to challenge, for mothers knew best in this case. Instead, I lead myself away and down the porch steps to a field perfectly preserved, unharmed by the spray and intact for anyone wanting to take advantage. Barefoot and feeling the crunch under my feet, never bleeding despite my soul lately, I spot something marvelous: a bright purple flower I have never seen. Getting closer, it starts to change, no, morphing as if my eyes are deceiving me. Yellow spots I did not notice before. My strong urge to share the beauty- I could never get close to it.

With every step closer, it kept changing and becoming further away in my eyes. Was it a sign not to share? I spoke aloud, "Fine! Your beauty is only for me and me alone. I vow to protect what secrets you hold!" Just like with the force of every energy, it appeared at my feet untouched and unplucked. The trickery is your own fool! Clasping my hands around the stem to bring back a bit of brightness to the sour taste I had left, that very same force pushed my fingers slightly as if to be pleading with me. The survival of this entity relied on me keeping to my word for a word is sacred. The new whispers were not guilt like the former, no laughter for speaking, and certainly never redoing what I believed in. Its beauty came from being unique. I bent over until the petals grazed the tip of my nose; I took a deep breath and said, "thank you." I held power all along and being granted with such care despite my own convictions of evil, a second chance to smell the flower, the soft scent centered me. Contributing in a positive way I did just that.

Only I was meant for this moment; I stayed awhile. Lucky indeed, even luckier that I could listen and be reminded nothing overcomes the pure beauty of nature. Looking out over the grass field, my bare feet, the talk was only noticed if you had nothing to say. Mother proved that, for she was speaking on nothing except nonsense. To get away just a moment, even if it was not my doing, I am grateful nevertheless.

Never wishing to be evil again, moving forward, only kindness will flood my heart. I grinned and layed down in the dream as I was in real-time and pictured the kindness one could bring to a soul experiencing grief and vanity.

Always wanting what wasn't mine, I had never noticed the karma of such actions. Sitting in this field had changed me and only in the brief moment when I was listening. Yes! For I have grown much and in ways, no one will batt an eye-lash. Bummer, I have never been taught any of this outside of the family and friend structure; that's when I never knew I struggled. Clear as day, the reality is different, and I thought it was normal. Was it me to protect or the rogue-willful of thinking individuals? I shall never tell. All I ever noticed over and over was the self-righteous always coming out and planting a flag where they claimed. I smelled the flower once more and appreciated the power it gave. Wisdom it seemed, and we never spoke a word. Shame started to feed my stomach pain.

Hearing a door slam and a quick bark from something almighty, I look around to Mother peering out over the vast majority. I raise my hand out of the handful of green and nodded. Now only estimating the power of the fewer words spoken, it wasn't enough. Marching down the steps and towards my sanctuary, the flower I once apologized for started to fade, but this time it wasn't because of me. "Pester, pester, pester," if only she knew; I knew she did not inherit the same kindness in the end, and the flower knew as well. Why can't she? If not at least within the family unit so oppositely taught to me, at least to the very beauty that is this world. I stayed silent because I wanted to stick to my truth. I just waited until it was over. After, she turned on her heels and went back the same way, never wavering away from it. I wondered if she would be so cliché if not for her status.

The flower came back in no time of her disappearance. Settling next to a truth-teller of no words, I smiled and thanked the flower once more. Was this a faith? No, for faith is never about seeing. This was something more mighty; a spirit, a calm center of a newfound energy one can see but only if given the gift of sight. Nothing to hail, no book to read from - I bask in the new wave of praying to the world around us. I felt peace, as this world should be by now but isn't. No one will see as I am. Being different makes us more collective but given too much, we only separate from our own truths of the world, or do we? Observing- no one can help but incorporate the divine into how they behave, so my mother has pushed judgment on me for not. My heart is saddened by this fact; my intuition tells me not even she is entitled to the sweetness and acception she demands. Have we always been this way? Her? Them? I am starting to not be but a newfound separate being from her. The flower knows not of the evil brewing around but only feels when things could be bad.

I smell the flower once more, reminding myself of the purity that still exists before standing. I looked around and the colors have changed as well; everything so much brighter than when anyone else was here. I stare up at the sky, pleased, then I turn and walk back towards the house.

Waking up now back to reality, I pondered the wonders of what I had experienced. It felt more like a memory than a dream, for everything seemed the same. Could there be more to it? If I had stayed dazed, would I have seen a harsher outcome once going inside? Or, is the harsher outcome of waking up and realizing nothing has changed. The questions raced my mind, and I sat, still debating. I will not dwell on the mistakes from the past but think of better for the future! I thought, and now I cannot help but feel excited, as everything was, in fact, reality.