A Page for Her.

The ebb and the flow, seem, somehow, uneven. There appears to be more ebb, than flow.
She knows this must be an illusion, but she cannot get past the notion, the sheer enormity, of the ebbing.

Oh, they say, you must get on with things.

Oh, she thinks, who will make me? And laughs, slyly, to herself at the childish thought.

Life might seem a pain, they say, But the alternative is worse.

Oh yeah?, she thinks, Who says so? Right now, the alternative looks really, really, attractive! I could embrace the alternative, as long as I could go, with no pain!
This pain of living, is too much. This pain of mind, is too much. This pain of physical being, is too much!!
On second thoughts, I could take the pain of going.
As long as I was gone.


The ebbing is shaded with images of children, neglected, abused, blighted, forever.
The ebbing includes the rabbits, trapped in cages.
The beautiful tropical Parrots, captive in cages.
The bears, trapped, in cages.

The ebbing contains the starved, malnourished, trust-abused, beaten, domestic animals. The ebbing is filled with the thoughts that they are still willing and able to forgive, and love.

There is more sadness, than pleasure, for her, in a rainbow. It has come to represent a false promise of hope.
After all, what is it, really?
Just light refracted, reflected, arranged in colours which delude.
She is certain, the pitiful range of colours observed by human eye, are miniscule.
She is also certain, she will never see the myriad other colours reflected there.

She realises she has lost her Rose Coloured Glasses, somewhere out on the plains. Perhaps they were swept away on the rivers of vast water.
Perhaps they were lost on the ebb.

It somehow seems, her tide will never rise again...