He was born a gentle soul, with a gentle heart and a gentle face. What a beauty to behold. His smile enough to melt the ice off a frozen life. On that very fateful and faithless day, when the doom of manhood was revealed, and the fella in gusto and high spirits, desirous to perpetrate his usual air of highness and attain satisfaction, barged into the room. She had been accepting this all the while, hopeful the much awaited golden streak would one day burst out of the gray. But as usual, this only loomed and loomed in the corridor, and no one dared fish it out.
As he thrust his will of power, the gentle soul’s seed was sown. The harsher the thrust, it seemed to be the gentler the soul. As way leads to way, the gentlest mix was made and the gentle soul breathed.
Seasons passed and life began to flow. That ever gentle face did not deter her from thrusting gentleness into the ungentle home of refuse. Surrounded by putrefying carcasses, unwanted junk from the meaningless and futile stub that inhabits man, the ever horrid and torrid haven that seemed to lay bare the simple existence of this gentle soul.
There the bitches, mutts or mongrels, birds and flies and bugs were its lone acquaintances. And did I forget the meanest ones of the earth, the worms and maggots. Yet through it all the gentle soul did not lose its gentleness. Or perhaps it did, but itself remained unaware. The gentle seeds within were oozing out of the gentle souls.
In the midst of this imbroglio the gentle embryo’s beam seemed to pull in a hub of dangerous faces; faces like those of she who confided it to such rootage; faces like those of he who sowed the seed in an ignoble manner; faces like those of he who glided away as the dust does at the coming of the rain; faces like those of she who chooses the path of a seeming “no choice” in impishness and utter disregard for the gentle soul – that gentle seed that was in her sown, and in her borne, and from her born.
Yet the sunshine in the grey, that streaked lasted but for a while. It seemed to have garnered all the gloom from the faces who looked down on it; faces of him, faces of her. How to live life as refuse, withdrawn from refuse, with none to comrade with. The scorn of peers and society, the scorn of self. A constant reminder the gentle soul knew no gentility from inception right unto this time of deception.
Through time all, the homes reject; the confines of a bastardized society which lives no space for “bastards”. Through the search for belonging, the street is a gentler solace; with arms as wide open, gentle and loving, as that of she who bore the gentle soul. Yet she was far away, and not a glimpse of her throughout the all. What could have been through her mind, and still be, that she wasn’t moved by the gentleness of the gentle soul’s gentle face.
Refuse from self, from her, from him, from home, from life. In the cool and calm embrace of Mother Street, the gentle soul finds a home. Why not enjoy the freedom to be free? Why not celebrate the company of those who value? Why not show some strength from one once considered weak, vulnerable, defenseless, refuse? Why not be all that you can be?
Except that one’s freedom often ends where another’s starts; even for the gentlest of souls. So the gentle soul, filled with ignoble parts of life, steps on the toes of freedom and falls off the cliff of life. Not so for all though, but this gentle soul found no way back up its toes. Way past for a reboot in this physical, but perhaps in the one beyond.
Yet he who gave the seed, and she who grew it, live off a side of earth not registered in the gentle soul’s annals.
To all those who have at any point in time cast out a gentle soul, either under full cognizance or impelled by supposed persons or circumstances; to all those who have at any point in time cast ignoble seeds of gentle souls, either under full cognizance or else and spurred someone to cast out a gentle soul, the gentle hands of the Gentlest heart is still open for repentant hearts.
Matthew 18 v 6
But whoso shall offend/cause to stumble one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea. (King James Bible)
If we repent, and confess our sins, God Almighty is faithful and just to forgive and cleanse us from all unrighteousness. (1 John 1:9).
God bless y’all.