The Fallen Prophet
At one time all looked up with the blue skies behind him. They all came to admire his strength and eloquence. The way he could peer into the soul of a crowd. The way in which he would happily sway in the springtime breeze. Dancing in the trees while those celebrated below. Some would come from far around to listen to him speak. People were always moved when he revealed his heart.
It all ended too soon. There were many more hearts that he wanted to open. So many more inspirations that he wanted to give.
But he knew it was his time. There would be no more moving prophecies. He wanted to deliver so much more, but he knew that he would be departing this earth.
This is where I found him. On a concrete wall in a small neighborhood in Tokyo. Momentarily motionless, until a stiff breeze would pick him up and return him to where he came.
I was the only one to pause and pay homage to the prophet. I saw the works that he accomplished in his short life. A life to be memorialized. The words spoken to be remembered.
All bow their heads for a moment of silence for the fallen prophet.