Sinister: they come from a star

[John Maxwell]

the sky was grey and overcast today, and it was all drizzly.  i was 
wondering what i was going to do, try to plan the day ahead; try and milk 
what little things i would be doing as much as i could, as what i usually do 
in my holidays.  i looked outside the window of the sitting room, just past 
the garden and onto the sloping banks, where i noticed two blackbirds 
sitting.  they were sitting facing each other, about ten yards away.  they 
didn’t seem to be moving, and i couldn’t hear if they were making any noises 
to each other.  wild birds are generally quite competitive, no matter their 
sex, and i thought it was a little odd for them to be sitting, staring.  i’m 
not an expert on birds, but their colours varied slightly, and i know that 
they were of opposite sex.  maybe i shouldn’t think so romantically, but i 
can’t help thinking that they were beginning to like each other.

Two wee birds, snuggling in their nest is such a gorgeous thought.  maybe 
they don’t get married, but they could have their own little honeymoon.  it 
could be a romantic cruise across the world and a backpacking trip across 
europe, except it would be flying.  they would have their honeymoon period 
of unparalleled love, but they would have the foundation building of having 
to live and defend for themselves, which would possibly make their love as 
good as any being’s..

since i’m only sixteen, i haven’t really discovered true love.  but i think 
that it would be just an expanded or elaborated version of any other love; 
the tingling of liking someone so very much, and the doublefuzziness of them 
liking you back, the security that you could probably spend the rest of your 
days with them happily, and settle down and eventually have your own wee 
backpacking-birdie flight thing.

but even the birds’ love could be shattered; there’s always competition.  
there always seems to be a better bird than yourself, and then there’s 
always accidents.  the birds’ true love could easily be smothered by 
heartbreak when they are as happy and ecstatic as they would ever be, which 
would make the pain even more colossal.  it’s hard enough when the aching is 
not related to true love.  i wonder if birds ever fear the day when their 
love would be broken.  i guess it does not happen to everybody.  some people 
would be happy until they die, and arguably past their death.  i wish that 
would happen to everybody, but in having to admit there’s no such perfect 
world, i am happy that some people would find their true love, be happy for 
the rest of their lives and never be broken, even if that wouldn’t be the 
case for me.

i used to wonder if birds, and other animals found true love.  i used to 
wonder (sometimes i still do) if it exists.  but it must do, because there 
are so many lovely people, and so many people happy.  there’s so much poo in 
our existence too, which can’t be ignored, but there is always light at the 
end of the tunnel.

johnjohn x


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