Dawn, and silence. I look at my refection, a perfect mirror in the pond, as no breeze stirs, and my morning reverie is left alone to itself.
A single tear – of a broken past – falls from my face to the water. Fascinated, I see, but not hear, the small splash it makes, and watch the ripples it makes spread outwards. And I think, as I watch those ripples. My past has no existence, except that which I give it. It has no power, except that which I give it. And yet the ripple continues to widen, as it slowly spreads across the still pond. It carries potential to the future, a future which maybe as yet unknown, also holds, waiting, a potential.
As the ripples reach the tall bulrushes in the pond, I perceive a myriad of small interacting ripples bounce back. And I see now, small as they may be, that those ripples will continue forever.
I smile, as my mind changes. The past is gone. The future can be what I make it. I smile at the difference such a small tear can make.
Jack Wolfe Frost is the Eternal Rebel; he rebels against everything which may have the word “rules” or “behave” within it, whether explicit or implicit. Born in Sheffield, UK, in 1956; he first started writing in 1982, as a hobby--dreaming that perhaps one day he might try and publish something. In his working life, he has enjoyed success in many diverse areas, including running his own company twice. Now older and wiser, he has once again taken pen to paper--looking for conformity to smash and rules to break…