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The Blackbird

By George Piggott

It was a cold March evening, 6:30pm to be precise, almost dark. Gentle rain was cleaning the solitude of the late daylight change.

Suddenly a surprise — the unique song of a blackbird disturbed the silence. The soul of a blackbird dominated the immensity; an unexpected intrusion. A beautiful sound balanced with pause and harmonious clarity, continuing for several minutes, profound in the awareness of its revelation. Its rareness bound in the Beauty of Song, an exceedingly rare likelihood of birth on such a dreary night.

The whole incident cocooned in the storehouse of a Mind. An awareness to the fact that shadows of gloom can embody a shaft of ‘Light’ to illuminate the perception to understand in a mind of perpetual darkness.

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