A white, delicate feather has fallen upon the dark forest floor. It lays gently curved in a spiral, vulnerable and exposed, radiating its light for all to see.
Inspirational Poems
A White Feather
A simple man, of nature's earth,
He spent the years working turf.
Loved ones, good, kind and pure,
No trap set could God's fate lure.
One fine day, in man's prime,
A moment's breath gave him time.
In the lake of depth and beauty,
Man didst see his lifelong duty.
Water's surface shone back at him,
An image caught far from sin.
White bird appeared such pure destiny,
His heart jumped from lock and key.
Turning from mirror with faith and love,
That bird was gone from up above.
Floating gently down unto him,
A feather, free, without sin.
From his home, man flew the nest,
Searching for soul became the quest.
Across land and water he searched in vain,
Repelling others with his pain.
As time passed by body wizened,
That first image lay as envisioned.
Man succumbed to age and decay,
He reached a mountain top, there he lay.
Peace descended, Mother Earth she spoke,
Wind gently flowing sun's warming hope.
From his pocket feather flew free,
Struggling in fear, man cried a plea.
In a moment, a thought sprung alight,
This quest, this journey had given him flight.
Horizon presented an image so sweet,
Man, he smiled, his journey complete.
By Sooth Player
White Feather
Showing the white feather. Some years ago a bloody war was raging between the Indians and settlers of the backwoods of North America. A Quaker, who refused to fly, saw ne day a horde of savages rushing down towards his house. He set food before them, and when they had eaten the chief fastened a white feather over the door as a badge of friendship and peace. Though many bands passed that house, none ever violated the covenant by injuring its inmates or property.
E. Cobham Brewer 1810–1897. Dictionary of Phrase and Fable. 1898.
The White Feather
Love is like a feather in the wind
It comes and goes
And if you see it, then chase it
You don't know where it will take you
But keep on following it
Abandon your past behind you
Stop making anything
Follow the white feather in the wind
And never look behind you
Because behind you, there is nothing better than what you will find at the end of the trip...
By Giancarlo Marcucci