A TOUCH OF GRASS
Every living thing has a sad story ,but very few have the courage to tell it. Some more courageous than others ,some less enthusiastic about the tale but none like a touch of grass. Every living thing has a flood of emotions when telling their sad story. These emotions more often than not overpower the tale that supersedes it, and when it finally becomes too much of an emotion to hold it in, it pours, but none like a touch of grass. And this is what we, "humans" call tears. We believe that no matter how sad every living thing gets, only those with eyes have the ability to cry. But that is just what we believe. Every living thing cries, by one way or another, even the trees cry from time to time and so too do the clouds, and when the clouds cry ,their tears fall on the bare earth and then there was grass. Scattered all over this earth is all manner and types of grass. To us it may just seem like a beautiful garden or a lawn ,but to others it may be something more. Every morning to evening 365 days a year the "herds" bite the grass. All manner and types of "herd". From the savannah to the Alaskan plains, the grass is always in pain. So everyday just before dawn the grass pours all its emotion ,from the hills to the plain to the valleys and the lawns, in parks and on football pitches and in the forests of this earth, the grass cries in pain. And with this tears comes relief and courage, courage to face the "herds" the next day. We call this tears of grass "dew". So everyday when I lay on the grass at the highest point of the city's park watching the sunrise, I see the "dew". I always lay on the grass to lift its burden ,to share its pain. People call it "dew", I call it,a touch of grass.
