“wow He Really Is A Hero” - Blog Posts
Have you heard of the boy who held kindness close even though anger is an option?
I have.
His eyes contained the forests that hold our life; green and nature-blessed. And, his hair remains grown, messily arranged — it contains memories, not so kind, but hopeful to the eye. The base of his cheeks are four-leaved clovers: luck, pure luck has brought him here.
I have known of him.
I have known of him. His sense of a squirrel. As they plant trees with their acorns in the soil. As he does good with anger burning in the air. As he cries, with his head upon my shoulder. Cheeks dampening the side of my shirt.
I have known.
I have known his kind smile (not forced, never forced) and I see his lips fumble, fumbling, upon the overwhelming comfort.
Stupid, stupid man. The world does not deserve his kindness, they do not deserve him, and his sense of a squirrel, and his hopeful eyes to a trivial, humane need such as comfort.
Whatever labour they have done, they brought upon this man. Of good and gold. Of nature and luck. Of peace, never-ending peace.
Of kindness over anger.