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| - 2007 mixed media on paper from my journals - |
Little Bird hatched from Mother’s ancient crystals with a precious gem balanced upon its beak.
“Why am I here?” Little Bird asked Water Buddha.
Little Bird, you are here to live.
To breathe and to fly.
To laugh and to cry.
Little Bird, you are here to die.
“To die? But have I not just now begun to live? I do not understand,” Little Bird cried.
Little Bird, life would not exist without death.
And really, death is but re-birth.
Little Bird, you have always been and shall always be.
excerpt from short story, originally published in 2007
