Gloomy clouds

settled over a dark, barren land

of hopelessness, sorrow, and pain.

Tears dropped from the sky, 

puddling into useless pools

of agonizing, lonely despair. 

A girl sat on an unyielding stone 

on one of these pools,

head buried in hands, 

weeping,

seeing nothing ahead but blackness,

emptiness,

hardness,

lost in a depressing world.

No one to glimpse her troubled fears.

No one to guess her saddened spirit. 

No one to understand.

After long, hardened months of hardship and toil,

finally,

at long last,

a seagull soared by, cawing in encouragement, "Use this wisely,"

a ray of light shone upon her upturned face,

and a gentle breeze blew a small object down from the sky.

The seagull's feather.

A quill pen,

to write,

to encourage, 

to strengthen others in the same plight as herself.

Soon the day brightened and others joined her and lifted up their voices in angelic song.