Sitting in the bus. Reading a book. I don't notice it. Not until, floating leisurely, it appears right there in front of me.
Its so small. A brilliant shade of pure white. Its a feather. A very small one. Never seen a feather so small. Smaller than the protruding tip of my finger nail. Its floating around right in front of me, riding the wind that's flowing through the moving bus.
It moves towards me, then gets sucked back towards the window, then it swirls around uncertainly until the wind pushes it nearer to me again. The book forgotten, I trace its quirky, leisurely and uncertain movements. Will it get sucked out of the window? Or will it zoom into the bus right past me?
Finally it approaches me tentatively, like a shy damsel. Its been moving this way and that, as if it's uncertain whether I am safe enough to approach. Finally, ever so slowly, it settles down on my sleeve.
For the longest time I keep staring at it. So white, so beautiful. Its every fiber accentuated in the bright morning light. I suddenly have this irresistible impulse to touch it, to feel it, to hold it on my finger tip. To put into my pocket, safe from the wind outside - to possess it and make it my own, this little miracle of nature.
So I move my hand, finger stretched. And as I am about to touch it, it lifts up. At first, almost reluctantly... It lazily swirls around on the eddies of the wind currents. And then is quickly swept away from me. I try to follow its erratic path, but its already lost, merged into the various colours that surround me.
It's gone. Just like that.
As I mourn the loss, I can't help but reflect: Isn't Lady Luck just like that feather? So beautiful, so pure, she visits us and sits on our shoulders, as we bask in her glory. We are mostly unaware of her presence. And when we do get aware of her, and as soon as we try to possess her, she will leave us to find another unsuspecting fool to bestow her blessings upon... Just like the little beautiful feather...
Its so small. A brilliant shade of pure white. Its a feather. A very small one. Never seen a feather so small. Smaller than the protruding tip of my finger nail. Its floating around right in front of me, riding the wind that's flowing through the moving bus.
It moves towards me, then gets sucked back towards the window, then it swirls around uncertainly until the wind pushes it nearer to me again. The book forgotten, I trace its quirky, leisurely and uncertain movements. Will it get sucked out of the window? Or will it zoom into the bus right past me?
Finally it approaches me tentatively, like a shy damsel. Its been moving this way and that, as if it's uncertain whether I am safe enough to approach. Finally, ever so slowly, it settles down on my sleeve.
For the longest time I keep staring at it. So white, so beautiful. Its every fiber accentuated in the bright morning light. I suddenly have this irresistible impulse to touch it, to feel it, to hold it on my finger tip. To put into my pocket, safe from the wind outside - to possess it and make it my own, this little miracle of nature.
So I move my hand, finger stretched. And as I am about to touch it, it lifts up. At first, almost reluctantly... It lazily swirls around on the eddies of the wind currents. And then is quickly swept away from me. I try to follow its erratic path, but its already lost, merged into the various colours that surround me.
It's gone. Just like that.
As I mourn the loss, I can't help but reflect: Isn't Lady Luck just like that feather? So beautiful, so pure, she visits us and sits on our shoulders, as we bask in her glory. We are mostly unaware of her presence. And when we do get aware of her, and as soon as we try to possess her, she will leave us to find another unsuspecting fool to bestow her blessings upon... Just like the little beautiful feather...
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