by Fred Leeds
I am seeking a bird called Winged Harmony, a creature little known to the world. He is reputed to live in the East, far from everyday things. I have been told that Winged Harmony offers a key to peace in the world by bringing peace to the heart of individuals.
The only way to contact Winged Harmony is through a dream. He knows I have been seeking him, and he sings to me one night in my dream. I translate the musical notes into thoughts: “Do not worry anymore about being confirmed by others. The group will not find peace except through the interior, the corridor of true selves which makes it up.”
A flock of singing birds gathers around me. They seem to smile as they sing: each smile is beautiful but special, a shade different from the rest. The birds look wise, like people.
“Here are the signs of a humanity no longer in conflict,” explains Winged Harmony. “These are my winged singers, who heal the heart at war with itself.”
“Their song is quite beautiful. I don’t know when I have ever been so enchanted. But where can I find you, or the winged singers, outside of dreams or song?”
“Dreams are more real than they seem, and song is the language above all languages. You must find out where things come from, see past the shadows.”
“Shadows? What shadows?”
“Seeing others as merely other. You must see your own face everywhere – in all other things.”
Winged Harmony’s last musical note trails off as I translate it back into thought. He flies with his winged singers into the far sky.
I awaken all at once, startled, and run to the mirror. I peer into my face. Everything is still there: vertical nose, horizontal eyes, one mouth…
I am still me, yet behind my eyes I sense different faces, other beings. I turn toward my window, where new birds have gathered. Together they sing the song which I heard in mere dream.
© Fred Leeds August 21, 2009
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