24" x 21" x 42"
A blind arrow tracing its way through the night air, suddenly stopped and found itself surrounded in the sudden rush of warmth. In all it's existence it had never felt so enveloped by such a feeling. It felt purpose. It felt secure, succumbed to the feeling of a moment only it could feel. A rush of sweetness overcame it and it felt one with the place it had landed. As it sat in this moment in time, it reflected on times past, trying to recognize this feeling. Nothing compared. It had been cold and lonely, surrounded by others who seemed to feel the same, but had never reached out to hold it in the manner it was being held. It had felt the air rushing over its body, even the whisk of nature tickling its thin frame as it sailed from destination to destination. Previous landings were cold and brittle, scratchy and stiff. Nothing like the pulsing fast pace warmth that filled its blind eyes with color. Where could this place be? Had the little arrow's cold existence finally come to its resting place? Could this be home? Maybe love... or some parallel that would take it to places... more warm places. As images filled the little wooden frame of mind, the very layers of its skin soaked in the warmth. The arrow was filled to a point of no return. It wanted only to stay. Whatever it had landed in... Wherever it was, it wanted only this. As moments turned longer, the arrow felt softer, and the pulsing that was so invigorating slowed. As if in perfect unison, the beats grew softer, and the arrow felt comfort. For the first time... comfort. Not cold, not dry... soft and wet. Slowly it drifted into a deep sleep. As the arrow slept, it dreamt. Dreams came in unimaginable forms... pulsating in color, slowing and sweeping landscapes of emotional bliss, and then... a valley. Not the kind of dips the arrow was so used to feeling in every journey, but a deep dark cold dip. Not the kind of dry, crisp biting air it was so familiar with, but a thick wet cold emptiness. No darkness was darker...no cold colder. There was nothing, no feeling, no warmth, not even the wind or the crackling loneliness that surrounded it when it was not in flight. The arrow awoke, only to realize that its nightmare had followed. It wanted out, but could do nothing. It was only an arrow, and had followed direction all its life, how could such a thing befall such a faithful servant? Was this the end? Had it come to its demise in this cold dark arena because of some wrong doing? Had the arrow been unfaithful? Had it strayed from its course? As much as it tried it could not come to any conclusions of wrong doing. Just then... a familiar warmth held its feathery tail and pulled. The arrow fought with all its might... it wanted so badly to go back to all the other arrows... to experience another journey through wilderness without knowing its fate. The more its trusted force pulled the more the arrow wished... but as it wished, a cold and harsh reality shoved itself into being.
The little arrow had been sitting there, so comfortable in the warmth that it had absorbed the wetness and swelled to become a part of it. As the valley in its dream came, it became heavy and soft... and could not go back to its original form. The brittle end, its last hold on the former existence... cracked. No more rides through open air... no more whisking through the grass, or tickling the leaves of the trees. It had become something new... something different. And yet as it sat there, it realized that its final destination was one it had been directed towards its entire life. Peace held the arrow, a kind of peace that is known only to those who experience a total acceptance, a total surrender.
And the arrow became death.
Death became life. And direction? It was never the same after that.
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