Deep in the forest, a little bird had grown up.
One morning, its mother quietly flew away, hoping that her little one would learn to live on its own.
But the little bird missed her terribly. Its heart felt strangely empty.
It flew and flew until it reached a little stream.
The water was clear enough to see the smooth, rounded stones beneath it. A few lotus flowers bloomed quietly along the bank, their petals gently swaying whenever a soft breeze passed by. The stream flowed slowly between the stones, never seeming to hurry and never stopping.
Tired from the journey, the little bird landed softly on a stone beside the water.
It sat there quietly and watched the stream.
The water kept flowing.
On sunny days, it flowed.
On rainy days, it flowed too.
The little bird watched for a long, long time.
Little by little, its heart, which had felt so tight since its mother left, began to soften.
From then on, whenever the little bird felt sad or came across something it could not understand, it would fly back to the little stream.
It would sit on the same familiar stone and watch the water for a while.
The stream never gave it an answer.
It simply kept flowing.
And somehow, that was enough.
Explore the Piece
For the moments when we pause, breath, and let things gently flow.
