What Does The Falling Bird See?
The Heavens
What Does The Falling Bird See?
If a man were to be remembered by the things he wasn't brave enough to do in his lifetime, then we'd all be remembered as monsters. If a man were to be remembered by the things he was brave enough to do, then we'd be remembered as a species of few heroes and many cowards. If I were to be remembered by something, I think I'd want it to be because of my mistakes. Of my failures.
I want to be remembered as a coward.
I want to be the man that did not have the courage to live. I want to be the spineless worm that shrunk away from life and the possibility to return home. I want to be he who didn't do everything in his power to return to his loved ones. I want to be he who rests in an unmarked grave for the remainder of existence. I do not want to be a hero. I just want to lay down and do nothing more.
What is bravery? What are we in the core of our hearts that makes us heroes? Is it he who wields the brightest light in the darkness? Is it he whose blade is the sharpest? Could a hero be the man that slays evil? I have done none of these things. I have lived a coward, and I will die as one. I want to. I need no glory.
I stand alone in the darkness of my own vanity. I look at the world in the eye and refuse to finish my mission. I do not want to return home. I do not want to share my discoveries with the world. I don't want to see my wife again. I don't want to live.
I want to run through this jungle one more time. I want to climb the rocks and swim the rivers. I want to venture into the depths of the foliage and draw the attention of the world around me from anyone else. I want to be the focus of attention. I want every eye on me.
I don't want glory. I don't need it where I'm going. All I need is the image of that little foal running away from me, eyes swimming in tears as every step she takes separates us even more. I want the world around me to forget her and focus on my arms, my legs, my chest and heart. I want nothing more than that, and for it I am a coward. For it I deny my world the knowledge it sought, and I die without remorse. Damn them all and their research. Damn everything back home. If my wife were to look at me and not love me, then damn her as well.
As that foal runs away and the eyes of the jungle focus once again on my legs; running through the foliage, and my voice; screaming and clamoring for their ears to hear, I know that I will be forgotten. I know that I will never return. I know I have been a coward, but I die happy nevertheless. Through my cowardice someone has lived. Through my failure that foal may succeed.
So let the earth drown me. Let the beasts that chase us see me run and not her. Let these be my last thoughts so that she may have a thousand more. Let her live where I died. Let me die a coward. Let me fail my species and my wife. Let them all forget me. I could not live with myself knowing that I lived; that I was a hero at the expense of an innocent.
And as I stumble through the foliage, and my lungs burn from exertion and a hundred eyes watch me fall; I rest in peace, because she won't. I close my eyes that she may open them once more. I die so she may live. I fail everyone. I perish. My life is extinguished.
My mind is at peace.
Through the pain; the chest-crushing pressure that threatens to choke me with sobs, the sight of the light at the end of the tunnel makes me happy. I was so close to the end. I was nearing the final stage of my journey. Years away from home. Endless nights staring at a photograph in the darkness. Days of toiling to find the answers I was sent to find. I do not regret leaving it all behind.
Through my sacrifice, she'll live. By my death I'll know I accomplished something my life never did. I served my purpose on this world. If a god watches from above, he's smiling. He knows I have done well. I have strayed from the path of right too many times, and now that I am back on it I realize how close the end of it is. How soon it all has come to an end.
So run, little one. Run that you may be a hero. Run that life may greet you with its arms open. Flee into the sunlight were heroes dwell. It is too late for me. It is too late for a coward to live. The coward will die today, as my body's life departs from the world and my eyes close for one final time. I stand amid the darkness fighting back sobs, but you will laugh yet again. It brings me comfort in my final hour.
Now I die, little one. Do not remember me. Do not bother yourself with the troublesome creature that could not complete his task. Live your life and forget the man in the background. Let me fade into obscurity as I now fade into the vegetation. Let me die and be forgotten.
I have had enough of heroes. I have had enough undeserved parades. I have felt my share of praise. It is only fitting that I die in silence, when I lived in cheer.
Farewell. Live your life to the fullest, little child. Live, so I may die.
What Does The Falling Bird See?
What Does The Falling Bird See?
What Does The Falling Bird See?
What Does The Falling Bird See?
Celestia unrolled the scroll. Her eyes were tired. The moon cruised the heavens above, still high in the sky. The winds swept by softly and lazily. They caressed her mane, her coat. They ran past the scroll and made its corners dance as dry leaves flew across the ground. It was a cool autumn night. The whispering of the wind wept sorrow.
The guard spoke but Celestia did not listen.
The wind blew, and she knew.
The scroll said little, but too much. Such weight should not be placed on so little words. They fail to hold the pain. They lack the strength to endure the mourning felt. They simply fall short.
Celestia dismissed his guard and stared at the stars. She wondered if he was there. She wondered if his own would remember him as he wanted to be remembered, or if they'd remember him at all. She thought of the orphaned foal. She spilled a tear.
If the world was ever unfair, then it was then. If a hero ever deserved a medal, it was him. If a sacrifice had ever been noble, it was this one.
So very little words. Such a small scroll. The message was lost in it. The feeling of it all. The tragedy. It wasn't there. Celestia put it away and gazed at the heavens. What could a man be doing so far from home? What could his thoughts be that led him to give his life for someone he didn't know? For one that wasn't his own?
What does the falling bird see, if not the ground?
"He fell, but saw the heavens." She said as the moon cruised the sky, and a white dove flew by.
