Cycle

This is a story which has been told many times before by many others, and I will tell it yet again. When we first hatched, walking into the day and the glorious sun, we were blinded. The world we stepped into was new and wonderful. Each day we took another stumbling step, learning about who and what we were. Our home was a meadow, where there was a stream that slowed into a shallow pond, and a tree with large, large branches that stretched high into the sky. I found an entrance in this tree, a secret hole that led to an inside room. All over the walls there were carvings depicting us, my people and I, or other creatures like us, our ancestors. I was certain that these pictures somehow showed us our destiny, but I was not sure what it was they showed. Our home runs out of food. The days become hot. Something inside of us tell us we must move on, and the pictures on the wall show us, a large swarm, traveling across miles of land. And so we go. We brave the world, looking for food. Some of us are made to protect, others to forage for food, others fly fast through the air, to become scouts, and still others dig holes in the ground so we can be shielded when the rains come. I find no purpose for myself. I begin to wonder if I have a point at all. The pictures on the wall show that our destiny is to reach a place yet unknown, and each one of us does something to achieve this goal. Yet I can do nothing to help. Together my people must find our destiny, and I must find my purpose.