" Letter To An Immortal

They're not going to understand the lightning in your veins. They'll expect you to apologize for the wildflowers you've planted in your bones. You planted them there because even bones should grow flowers. They will question the mountain ranges around your heart, say that they should be let in, say that you're not allowed to have borders. They are going to want apologies for the rivers and brooks flowing through your veins and for the way you call to eagles, for how you swim with elephants. They'll expect you to make yourself understood, as if you owe them that. Everyone thinks that forces of nature don't come in human form; they'll want you to explain yourself. You won't have to, you don't have to. The first time it rained; it is they who learnt to build houses and to take cover; it is not the rain which stopped to study their patterns. The first time flowers grew out of cave walls, it is they who marvelled; no flower has said, that it must have grown in the wrong place at the wrong time! It is they who have died atop mountain ranges, no mountain has fallen for anyone! The very first time lightning hit a tree, they were given the gift of fire. The first time a man drowned in a river, they learnt of its currents and depths, but also, they chartered maps to new worlds beyond their own horizons. You are your own territory, not born on account of them but born as the planets are born, born as nature itself is born. Your dreams are the blueprints, the stories you are woven from. Let them learn, let them move according to the lands and the skies you inhabit. "

― C. JoyBell C.