Rhyming Resurrections - a teenager's thoughts

The Sun, The moon and The stars

My heart finds solace that I don't have to tell them, but the fact that I can tell the stars, trees and the rivers. I take a deep breath as I lay under the rustling leaves of the tree. Speaking to them as if it were my only friend. The birds gather on its branches, chirping loudly as they drown away the questions of the world passing by.

The hurdling crashes of the water stream behind me, reminding me that the water longs to give its opinion on my problems. The dew on the grass blades tickling my exposed feet as I wriggle my feet slightly to remind them that their voice won't go unheard.

The clouds overhead tackle the winds carrying them away swiftly, the light drizzle of water droplets left behind as their last word. I lay still, taking in the noise and chatter. I lay still until the bright raging sun shifts to let the cool moon substitute it.

I lay still until the birds stop chirping, the river stream stops thrashing and what remains is the howling of the nocturnal and the low whimper of the water stream near my head.

And then I open my eyes, the breeze caressing my anxious skin with its feather like touch, the moon spreading its cool all over my helpless body. I smile before my eyes close, heart at peace that they knew and my secret still lied deep within me.

Just like this, every day I rise back up from my grave, without a care as the world passes by, people desperate to talk but my only friend is the sun, the moon and the stars.