Movements in Metaphor

Gently pivoting round its anchor, the sailboat rocked on the moonlit waves that lapped the soft shores of the island beyond.

Flickering before the distant starscape, the birds let their calls fall lightly through the air as they vanished over the wild treetops of the island beyond.

Surfacing with a slick motion, the seal gave a husky breath and then slipped under once more, only to reappear closer to the shallows of the island beyond.

The universe was pointing to the island beyond. But only one man was listening. And he was considered to be mentally unstable. But when the doctors had looked for a stable mind, they had really been looking for a stationary mind. This man's mind was moving.

A shooting star momentarily pierced the sky, it's light trail falling towards the ragged silhouette of the island beyond.

The man sighed. It was all so clear. At first, the metaphors had seemed far-fetched. Now they were more clear than ever. At first, he had been doubtful. Now he was sure.

It had taken him three months and five thousand miles to arrive at this time and place. And now that he was here, he couldn't help thinking back to the moment when it had all started.

It had been a funny April day without a single exterior detail to identify it, but internally, he had been experiencing a strange wash of feeling. So he'd abandoned his work for a walk in the park to free his mind and to freshen his spirits.

But then the chestnut tree had waved at him. The wind-tossed branches had not moved at random. He was certain of that. The tree had waved at him. Feeling a warm yet peculiar sensation in his buzzing head, he approached the tree, sleepily ignoring his doubts enough to truly imagine.

When he was fully beneath the tree, he looked up into its boughs and closed his eyes. The shadows flickering across his eyelids made him smile. Then, opening his eyes, he noticed that he had something in common with a nearby flag. It too was enjoying the flickering shade of the tree. He reached a hand towards it in a gesture of wonder, and the tree gave him a high-five.

From then on, he began to notice every metaphor in the world around him. They were not superstition signs. They were real. Things began to grow clearer.

And now, the silence of the waves against the dock gave his feet a beat to follow. And though the reflections were making faces at him, the timing of the flickering candle urged him onwards. And besides, the contrast between the solid beach and the rustling grass was a sure sign that he was welcome.

Occasionally he had doubts. Occasionally he realized how far-fetched his reasoning was. Occasionally he saw the obscurity for what it was. But he would always remember the few powerful moments in the beginning that had wholly convinced him.

And once he'd been convinced that the universe was speaking to him in metaphors that only he could understand, he soon realized that the universe was doing so for a reason. The universe wanted him to discover something. That was what had led him to the island beyond.

And what a journey it had been. The first powerful moment had occurred the very evening after the peculiar visit to the park. The street lights had flickered in a pattern. The color of the vehicles passing had voiced a clue. The movements of the universe had enfolded before him in an incredibly complex hint. To humor the tingling sensation in his mind, he had let it all in...then he had begun to follow the trail.

The End

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