An idea, a thought, an anecdote, a story or a poem a day!

  Standing still, lost and aimless, burdended with the heavy load of our shared past, I was stooped in my miseries, when a tap on my shoulder m ade me turn around and look up to see the green g old bird of my tarnished memories, f lying away with a wounded wing, t o plummet into the darkness of oblivion. And suddenly, the night was over!!

The Survival Skills With the sun rising, the jungle rises too, stretching its limbs and twittering its wings as animals come out, after their night long rest and sleeping birds wake up too, leaving their nest in search of food and life e ach day, a test of their survival skills! The fledgling flies out of its cozy nest brandishing its green plumage, as it ventures out though the world out is still beyond its boundary there is still time before it has to find the food that its mother feeds it or what its father brings but it needs testing its wings, to learn to save itself, to dare and dodge any other bigger bird, or animal that kills!! Then as the evening descends on the tree and the songs of birds returning home, get louder, and louder as they celebrate the return of survivors, while mourning the death of those who didn't make it, the mother awaits with an abated breath, for her little one who hasn't appeared back!!! And then, tip tap, tip tap, tip tap the fledgling retur...