The Rooster in our life (a short story)


 


you know

all morning it wakes up 

and the world around


in the valley 

in the mountains and hills

It climbs on the highest branch of a tree

in the roofs too


it beat its wings

singing a load 

with a high-pitched voice

making a sweet song


it echoes for distance

moving other like it to do the same

so does not exist a place where 

the chantory do not arrives


He is a musician

participating of

warning it will  dawn


the sunflower imitates following the light

other plants and animals maybe make that

at minor scale


All began with a 

the promise of a demigod  Prometheus

take a ray of sun

and brought to men


He expected promition awareness for Men.


The humans do not understand his intention

they believed

that the ray was the gold


So, where the human being did go

it sought golden stones


It caused problems for all

increased the desires

the interests

the jealous

The selfishness and greed


Illuminate the conscience is not possible

with competition

ignorance


The earth people thought that gold was like god's presence


It happened many time ago.







God of gods called the rooster to explain to the whole world

that the lamp of conscience is good like the sun brightening on the heaven


God put the cockscomb 

the representation of rays

from Sun

in the top of rooster's head

for the people to know where to start the knowledge

the conscience

and the good


The  rooster try accomplish God's will, trying to teach with your sing

the joy of life


I am someone who came from a place that never was. River water, calm lakes, waterfalls, edges where bushes and trees grow, the open field, the sky reflected in my hands in the trembling mirror of the river, the waits I am, this man lying in the river in the middle of autumn of my existence, loves his children, he likes to be alone, and he has a great company. I leave out the conceptual groups that put their finger on the face and follow fashion. I try not to be like that. In this boat, I am also the water where I sail. I take the sky with me, the fields, the flowers, and the fragrant herbs all my mornings. I am a being of the dawn. The scandal of nature in the voice of a bird, the incessant hum of the bells that insects make. I look like it, but I am not afraid of anything. I do not think I ever was. Indeed, my father, especially my mother, sweetly led me to read and write. I am always primary; I am still learning to read and write, row, and let the boat go safely. pmnt

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