Author : Shane Jovanovic
"How dare I snub thee!" This I write, reminding myself of the glory in which we exist; of every noble tree shedding their purity of breath unto every soul; of the land which bumps and swerves in knowing dynamics; of the transparent realms (see them glint and glisten about Mother's heart!) hugging passionately about every universe, both stagnant and free; of our pulsing hearts drowning in the love of every thing; of love itself; of beauty.* * *Upon the window which passes Mother Fire's warmth into the study, a lonely bottlebrush breathes to the tempo of a gentle, gentle breeze. One of its scraggly, unique, divinely arms scuttle along the monotonous surface of the glass. There's a faint sound of screeching, nearly inconsistent with the knowledge of the human ear. But listening closely, there are voices gently, gently calling. Calling my name.The desk bores me to tears, so does the mathematic problem I've confronted myself with. I can't help but to throw all the text books which lay mockingly on the desk at the wall behind me. Eight weeks left, and then it is all over – school's over. I decide on leaving studying until the morning, when in a better frame of mind. In an act of vain remedial, I pick up a book entitled, 'Great Short Works of Edgar Allan Poe.' I attempt to interpret a couple of Gothic Tales, thinking it worthily for English, but in an instant I give up. I'm tired, and there's a persistent screeching by the window next to me. I look out, slightly startled, to see a bottlebrush swaying to the tempo of a gentle, gentle breeze. Then I feel my ears prickling; someone's calling my name. I think it unlikely. Parents are out in their busy world, scraping the end of the barrel to keep us all sane. I conclude that I'm tired, and thus decide on a siesta…I awake to the whispering of my name. I chuckle to myself, wondering how I could be so stupid. Thus, I head outdoors, in the last act of twilight, and greet the beckoning voice. My first words are, "forgive me, forgive me, how dare I sub thee." We get along greatly, and later, back in my study, I chew through the work load with a bottlebrush shedding its purity of breath unto my soul.
Keyword : environment,creative,spirituality,Aboriginality,ignorance,gratitude
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