Fading dreams in Haiku - Into the light (a short story)
Fading dreams - in illustrated Haiku
Haiku, I have never written one before.. but the moment did suggest a Haiku to me... the sadness of it all, and yet life moves on. I have two images here that tell a story. One speaks of the changing seasons and another of a dream nipped in the bud. There maybe mistakes here so bear with me... although I have mostly stuck to the 757 code, I have broken loose in ways...
I love this art form because of the rich imagery and sharp pictures it affords in words. The mood reaveals itself in images and the reader is at liberty to form his/her own conclusions... The stories that the words create are beautiful.. I am not so confident that mine do.,.. but I have reads some that really do.
Here is my very first offering.... Fading dreams - a Haiku
Dead flower, wilting life,
Fresh new melodies,
Brutally snipped in infancy!
Dry leaves drifting in the wind,
Once aflame with color!
Happy tales, silently doomed,
Disrupted dreams of passion!
Emerging from dead ashes
Aborted dreams, silent tales.
Tender leaves, buds and bees
Promise of rain
Vibrant, expectant hope!
Ripe, fragrant offerings
Prequel of hope
Brilliant futures ahead!
Raging storms, spirited tree,
Still standing proud, tall
Amidst scattered leaves!
Fading dreams - Into the light - A short story of hope!!
The noisy drizzle of the leaves, the crunching noise of them under the feet, showed it was late in the year. The books were taken out and accounts checked and there was a treasure to be found. Under the dank decay of the trodden leaves, where no one could see, hid the treasure. The smell of decay filled the air, cold winds blowing at high speeds brought down a huge collection of those leaves that remained boldly hanging on to the trees.. Soon the trees will be bare, bereft of life or so it would seem, under the winter snow.
The search was on, the the place was raked, cleaned of leaves, but there was nothing to be found. Piled up as waste, to be burnt in haste were the leaves. The golden flames danced about, licking the leaves with greed. They grew big and bright, scorching and fearsome. It looked as if it would last forever, but little did it know that it could last only as long as the leaves remained. Raging fiercely while it lasted, the embers smoldered in anger, creating a short lived dream of destruction.
From the spent ashes would rise the tendrils of hope, when it was time. But for now the treasure remained hidden, hidden not lost! Growing from strength to strength drawing from the decay and the putrefaction, there was new life. A secret life, unseen, unheard and unsung.
I should have been there, bejeweled in the King’s bosom and not on those silly trees that threw me down, thought the treasure. Lacking in wisdom and not knowing that without hurt and pain a woman could not birth a dream, she cried until she died, never to be heard of anymore, banished from memory and from the pages of creation. There was no account of her in the books of creation, oh! not as yet!! With no one to grieve and remember, she was a faded dream, aborted before her life had even began in earnest. Like the loose pages of a story, half written and fed to winds of time, she remained silently lost. How many treasures where there in her? No one ever knew! The sadness of it all!!
The trodden treasure moved deeper into the lap of her master, who cherished the seed, nurtured her and gave her life again. Like a Phoenix, she rose from the ashes, her tendrils were the tell tale signs of hope, when there remained no hope of life. Unvoiced dreams and unsung tales sprung forth from her bosom with fiery warmth again. There are times and seasons, rhymes and reason, all need not be known or revealed. The story of hope is for all to see!!
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