fuck you miles davis
empty your spit valve
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Showing posts with label favorites. Show all posts
21 February 2008
07 November 2005
The Oasis
The oasis stared towards the clear blue sky and reflected upon it. Not far from where he lay his three closest friends looked down on him shaking their heads. It had always been this way; blue sky, clear water, three shaking friends.
On common days the sun shone hot and the wind bore down upon his face causing small wakes to roll from shore to shore. However, upon occasion he would arise to the sound of distant winds. For a moment the sky would shout with glory from atop an unseen mountain announcing the arrival of rain. The oasis treasured these moments. In fact, he lived upon them from year to year.
Then, one year, the sky's voice did not come. While it was rare enough to hear its voice and feel its power, the oasis knew that this year was unusual. He began to feel himself withdraw from his companions but there was nothing he could do to stop it. As he did so their heads shook harder and harder, swaying with heated winds. But, alas, the oasis still retreated. As time went on he first lost the ability to touch them. Then, he lost sight of them. Eventually, he could no longer hear them. The oasis stared towards the relentless blue sky and questioned it. He heard no reply.
As days wore into weeks and months the oasis saw many travellers pass by. He began to lay dark and still, brooding as visitors would stop. When asked for a drink he would stare back in anger until the onlookers walked on. Embittered by his hopelessness, the oasis turned his eyes toward heaven and saw a small bird.
The little bird landed next to the oasis, and, as many before, asked for a drink.
"No," said the oasis.
"But why," asked the little bird.
"I am old and drying up," said the oasis. "Now please, leave me alone."
The little bird hopped about and seemed prepared to fly away when it turned and asked, "Why are you drying up?"
"The rains have not come in a long time and the sky refuses to speak," said the oasis.
"Ah," said the little bird. "There is your answer. You have recognized the sky as the one who replenishes you. But, there is a river which flows deep beneath you and rises to fill your shores. Search down within, you will find it. True, it is the sky who sends the rain to flow, but it is the spring which keeps you fresh."
The oasis searched within and spoke, "little bird, your words are true. You may drink from my shore, but I cannot assure you that it will be refreshing."
"Oasis," said the little bird, "you are not the only one who gives life."
With that the little bird dropped a seed on the shore and drank.
On common days the sun shone hot and the wind bore down upon his face causing small wakes to roll from shore to shore. However, upon occasion he would arise to the sound of distant winds. For a moment the sky would shout with glory from atop an unseen mountain announcing the arrival of rain. The oasis treasured these moments. In fact, he lived upon them from year to year.
Then, one year, the sky's voice did not come. While it was rare enough to hear its voice and feel its power, the oasis knew that this year was unusual. He began to feel himself withdraw from his companions but there was nothing he could do to stop it. As he did so their heads shook harder and harder, swaying with heated winds. But, alas, the oasis still retreated. As time went on he first lost the ability to touch them. Then, he lost sight of them. Eventually, he could no longer hear them. The oasis stared towards the relentless blue sky and questioned it. He heard no reply.
As days wore into weeks and months the oasis saw many travellers pass by. He began to lay dark and still, brooding as visitors would stop. When asked for a drink he would stare back in anger until the onlookers walked on. Embittered by his hopelessness, the oasis turned his eyes toward heaven and saw a small bird.
The little bird landed next to the oasis, and, as many before, asked for a drink.
"No," said the oasis.
"But why," asked the little bird.
"I am old and drying up," said the oasis. "Now please, leave me alone."
The little bird hopped about and seemed prepared to fly away when it turned and asked, "Why are you drying up?"
"The rains have not come in a long time and the sky refuses to speak," said the oasis.
"Ah," said the little bird. "There is your answer. You have recognized the sky as the one who replenishes you. But, there is a river which flows deep beneath you and rises to fill your shores. Search down within, you will find it. True, it is the sky who sends the rain to flow, but it is the spring which keeps you fresh."
The oasis searched within and spoke, "little bird, your words are true. You may drink from my shore, but I cannot assure you that it will be refreshing."
"Oasis," said the little bird, "you are not the only one who gives life."
With that the little bird dropped a seed on the shore and drank.
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