I had journeyed across many troubled seas in my sturdy boat. Until a time came when the ferocious waves ripped at my vessel and tore it into pieces, and I found myself plunged deep into the dark murky waters. I drifted and everything grew hazy. I felt myself stiffen and grew colder by the moment until I sank into deep hibernation. Sometimes I awoke, unable to move, impacted inside a vast glacier. Unable to escape my icy prison.
From from prison, I could see for miles. I watched the merciless waves tear at the seabed and thrash against the rocks. I could see little ants marching and carry on their business. I watched birds soar, and others slip into the icy depths…falling to their watery graves. But I remained still, watching, observing.
I know not, how long I stayed there. Days passed, nights, eventually seasons, and I witnessed this from my viewing platform of ice.
After some time, the ice became my home. It felt familiar and safe. The waves could not reach me from here. I could not be dashed against the rocks and destroyed. The predators could not feast upon me.
Now and then, a little bird would fly by and whistle a tune. Then one day the little bird hopped onto the glacier…and stopped for a moment. Then the bird did an odd thing and started to tap at the ice. The noise was deafening. The sensation chaotic and unnerving. Why was this bird tormenting me? I tried to ignore it, and its cheerful little song and eventually it went away.
Then the next day I was watching a pilot Whale, when I noticed the little bird again. Tapping at the ice, slowly chipping away at it with its beak. I panicked! What the hell was it doing? Did it not know that it was dangerous to chip away at the ice? Anything could happen! I tried to deter the bird, yet still, it remained.
Every day the bird returned to chip away more ice. I felt exposed, bewildered. Then the bird did another strange thing. It hopped onto my cold fingers and began to sing to me. The warmth from the bird spread through my fingers and into my arms. Bit by bit the ice turned to slush, to water and pooled around me leaving me exposed to the elements. I looked around grasping at the slush, trying to reform the ice, but to no avail. Its substance had changed and to re-build it, was impossible.
I could now move freely, and now I glanced down into the water and saw my eyes reflected. Then without knowing why. I did something very peculiar. I joined the bird in its uplifting melody and began to sing, and after a while, I started to forget about the glacier. Instead, I wondered what it would be like to march with the ants and fly with the gulls.
I pondered and knew the little bird could fly off anytime it wanted, yet I was free from my prison at last. If only I could tell the little bird all this…but sadly we did not speak the same language. Yet somehow, at times I was able to harmonise with my little-feathered friend.
Then for the first time in what seemed like an ice age. I felt the warmth of the sun on my skin, saw the depth of colours in the horizon and felt the tiny beating heart of the bird under its wing.
And I realised, that sometimes the smallest of things can make the most significant difference.
FINI
