Unsung

You have to start a journey somewhere and, at its source, you may not expect very much. Everything may just remain in a pond nearby. But, what if your waters nudge the bank and create a new stream, slipping a seeping vein into virgin soil, and carving out a fresh direction? It may be a turbulent flow, muddy, curling, curving and twisting but, somewhere in amongst, it discovers purpose and direction. It is vibrant, picking up a pebble as it passes the silent swishing tails of sipping cows and rides the current of Father Time’s gathering speed. Make the most of the life force, before enjoying the lazy meander as your journey embraces the wide mouthed silver shine of the vast reflecting ocean beyond. There, on the beach, your pebble comes to rest. It forms part of a beautiful view whilst its journey there lies untold. Until this moment. This is a long forgotten old Cornish tale.