To celebrate the holidays, here’s a prose ode to optimism and progress that I wrote years ago and wish to share:
“Up Into the Breeze” © Bill Levy 2005
A father and his son once went walking through a dark mysterious tunnel. The father showed the boy how to walk while stooping, and how to grope in the darkness for the damp walls. Suddenly, a storm of tremors descended upon the tunnel, causing numerous rifts and cracks in the dome, and creating rays of warmth that brightened segments of the grotto. The father continued to stare toward his feet while the boy looked upwards and saw sporadic wisps and hues of the Outside.
In time the father died and the former son walked the tunnel with his own boy. As the boy grew, the father proudly pointed out the views the splits and breaks in the dome allowed. The son loved to watch the gentle colors and motions of the Outside, but grew disturbed by the interruptions that obstructed a constant view. One day the boy raced ahead of his father and knocked down the ceiling of the cavern. The son could now see the skies and the mountain peaks continuously through the open dome, as he walked along side of his father.
In time the father died and the former son walked the roofless tunnel with his own boy. As the boy grew, the father proudly showed him the realm of the heavens. The son loved to observe the distant fragrances of the Outside, but grew annoyed that he could not grasp the horizons. One day the boy sped ahead of his father and tore down the walls. The son could now see all around, as he led his father along the pebbly road.
In time the father died and the former son walked the path with his own boy. As the boy grew, the father proudly displayed the panoramic vistas. The son loved to witness the visual tinges of the Outside, but grew restless to touch the foreign valleys and sense the alien spaces. One day the boy left his father and the path to wander through the sands and grasses, seeking and searching whatever held interest.
In time the father died and the former son walked the endless meadows with his own boy. As the boy grew, the father humbly offered to him the music of the Outside, and pointed back to the Past’s road, the roofless and rift-filled corridors, and the shadow of the dark tunnel. The son watched and saw, and, with the eyes of age, thanked all of his fathers, and swiftly danced — Up Into the Breeze.