Troubadour and Buddha. P.5 – End.

…..#361/365 Paintings…..

She gently laid him down. And with the patience of a Buddha she began the hard work
of healing. She had seen 
his family run over by the big machine and was surprised there was anyone left. She was determined to save him for all rabbits, yes. But for herself. She needed a friend—she needed a mate.

He dozed in and out. The smell of dirt, eucalyptus bark, oak leaves and
soapstone comforted him. He couldn’t believe that she was there—that he was alive with this beautiful rabbit. His 
thoughts were wild, spurious things jumping about like bugs. The bugs. Ugh! he
thought. So much had happened, what could he make of it? Was he a bundle of selves, each with a different destiny? He was so certain of everything before his family went away. What is
 life anyway?

As she licked and cleaned every part of his dying
body he decided he wanted it. He wanted life badly. He wouldn’t have known what
 love was until he felt himself nervous of his own impediments next to her 
regal calm and beauty. Nor would he know what life could mean beyond his
 brothers and sisters and dear mother. He decided then and there he would learn 
how to be everything she could ever want. A troubadour for her in every way –
 and a gracious continuance of life for the night sky’s entertainment as their
 stories gathered in years.

………….

See you again Thursday to resume with new word + image pieces and finish up. Have a wonderful holiday everyone!