The incredible story of the birdman
He lays sideways on his back and felt more and more his forces leaving. The warm blood
poured out of the severe puncture of his abdomen; a small puddle accumulated on the cool
pavement. He could notice it very clearly; this deep red source which left the life from
his body. Dazed and unable to move, he sank into the depths of his
thoughts. He saw himself standing by that magical lake as a little boy. And there was this
gorgeous beautiful woman floating over the water. This beautiful delicate sense of flowers
and then the air filled with singing birds.
"I have fulfilled your mission,"came from his lips, "I have fulfilled your mission,
Mitra, my Goddess of Love". His head turned to the side, he moved his eyes
heavenward. Suddenly he was surrounded by this well-known delicate flower scent. And there she was
the goddess of love. Mitra arose before him: "You have saved the love for mankind, birdman,"
she said gently, bent over his head and breathed a kiss on his forehead. He
smiled and closed his eyes.
And that's how it all started:
In front of the doors of majestic mountains, large forests once spread out. Happy, fresh,
mountain springs nourished them for eternities. It is therefore not surprising that
all the trees were in good shape and many were hundreds of years old. Her real age knew
not even a mortal. It always remained their secret. The lake which was fed by the springs laid deep in the
forests, guarded by branches of ancient, wise giant trees. Their roots were protecting his shore
so that no man could pollute his water. To many people
the dense, dark woods were scary. The ancients told each other long before our time
stories about ghosts, demons and gruesome creatures they are supposed to harbor.
So the people stood away from the forests and looked with awe at their mighty
crowns. Protected in a crevice, the rocky gorge not far away, laid
arounded by walls the little monastery. His age isunknown. It was as far as the inhabitants of the valley
think back on. It was somehow always there.
The peaceful valley provided by a river with fresh water spread fruitfully
below of the walls of the monastery and surrounding mountain slopes.
Thirty monks lived in the monastery and all were of the same age: year of birth, day of birth, hour of birth,
even second of birth were in accord with all the monks. Only the very old wise abbot; he had already had
many decades come and go, he's probably reached an infinite age. That's not even surprising that people
also telling true miracle stories about him. His wisdom
is fed by the ancestors of past centuries. Yes, even the gods would ask him for advice
it was said. The monks rarely came down into the valley. However, once a year the surrounding
villages in the valley celebrated a feast in honor of the goddess of love, Mitra. It was Thanksgiving.
Mitra was the symbol of love. She embodied the love of interpersonal relationship, love and
respect for all animals on earth, love for water. Because who carries the pure love of nature within him,
is pure of heart, pure of love. The people thanked her that they always had sufficient to eat,
that they could be happy and satisfied and that the earth had given them everything that they needed
for the rest their life. They decorated the huge aerial roots of the ancient Ficus tree on the river bank with
colorful garlands of fabric and small brass bells thanked with cheerful rings with every breeze of wind.
For the villagers, the old Ficus stands for a long and healthy, respectful life; respect for nature.
All the monks also took part in these joyful celebration. Only the wise abbot observed the hustle
and bustle from the bank of the river. To be continued.........
Todos los derechos pertenecen a su autor. Ha sido publicado en e-Stories.org a solicitud de Jürgen Skupniewski-Fernandez.
Publicado en e-Stories.org el 18.05.2018.