Have you ever seen a bird's feather drift in the air? It rises up with every gust of air that propels it higher and higher. It sways in the middle, dances in the air and defies gravity by its weight - feather-weight. It is quite interesting to watch where it settles and how it leaves to its next waypoint without a mark. The fascinating aspect of this drift is that it lacks direction and you can never map the course of this journey. Not even the feather could.
Kids often catch hold of it and play with its freedom. But, the feather is never conquered. It shall merrily drift again. Only rain wears it down with its heaviness and stamps it on to the ground. The wounded feather loses itself and lies helplessly on the ground. During the sunny times, it scaled the tallest buildings, outlasted all of its conquerors and never stopped in hesitation. The pounding was a touch too heavy on the feather this time. Its wings were greased with pain and insecurities it never knew before. The feather believes all its sorrows and pain will be blown away by the winds of hope. It bides this phase lying in soltitude and hope.
And yes, the warmth of the sun and the strength of the winds drove the dark times away. With its rusty wings, the feather began its journey once again. The drifting was not easy anymore and neither graceful as before. But for the feather, these little misgivings did not bother anymore because it was doing what it loved the most..drifting. But by now, it sure knew the perils of rain and the powers of hope.
For me, this feather is nothing but the spirit.. the spirit of living!