Tracking Your Heart

PHOTO PROMPT © C.E. Ayr

To go on a journey you have to leave a place behind.

Hark back to the station at the start of a trip.  Hands held, promises made, bound by common memories and yet you have to go.

Fly away said the bird to the chick, flap your wings hard, soar and succeed.   The eyes that watched you grow, the hands that moulded you, are now setting you free.

You embrace that freedom.  You follow the tracks, find new paths, the tracks diverge, merge, cross bridges and you hang on for the ride.

Yet you return.  Love always brings you back.

**

Written for Friday Fictioneers Word Count : 100

Our parents guide us, show us the way and then once we have grown they let us go.  I am beginning to slowly realise how that works.  In memory of my father-in-law who passed away in this week.  To read the other writers this week click here.  

The Gift

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

The child gazed at the reclusive prince sitting under the Peepul tree. The villagers washed his feet and offered him food.

They sat mesmerised as the enlightened one spoke in a tranquil voice explaining Dharmachakra or the Wheel of Righteous Duty. 

The child fell asleep and on waking, he saw the grown-ups offering bhiksha to the departing Buddha. He had nothing yet consumed by love he gathered dust in his two little hands as an offering.

Smiling serenely Buddha accepted the child’s offering and blessed him.

He never saw the master again but the fragrance of his memory stayed forever.

**

Written for Friday Fictioneers Word Count : 100

I start this year with the recount of a legend around the ancient Indian emperor Ashoka.

The story was told in the Ashokavadana ("Narrative of Ashoka"). It is believed that Buddha prophesied about the birth of Ashoka, in the story of the 'Gift of Dust'.

Baroness Helen Giskra, Baltimore [date and mode of acquisition unknown]; Walters Art Museum, 1949, by gift. 

To read how the wheel turned for the the other writers this week click here.