#gennady tkachenko

[dopeshitandcraftsmanship]

Gennady Tkachenko - Pilgrim

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[convergence23]

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[southcarolinawoman]

[theolivebird]

Messenger of the earth

Since he was little, Gennady felt an unbridgeable gap between himself and others. He uttered not a word, for he found words to be a daunting commitment towards a never-ending series of results and consequences. He often wondered if his loneliness was a result of his refusal to speak or their hasty judgement of his capacity to think.

He saw in his parents’ eyes love, and sympathy. The latter hurt him so and he retreated outdoors evermore. He loved to spend his time in the forest behind his home and no one cared to find him for he was deemed a pointless fool. In the waking hours of the morning, he would press his palms to trees, marking their grain and taste the sweet crisp dew on his lips. In the passing seasons, he would observe the changing hues of leaves and witness the sacred wax and wane of flowers and insects. He would hear the songs of creatures, in life and in death. He saw nature to nature, an earth song in motion. 

Unbeknownst to others, he began to utter, not words but music. He sang the forlorn of night owls and heartaches of mothers who lost their babies as prey. He felt in his throat the whisperings of life, gentle and suffering. He is the messenger of the earth, his soul pure and beautiful.

Then, there came a time when people with big words and big machines told them that this was their home no more. They spoke as if they owned the land as if land could be owned with words. They had no soul for the land and the land’s soul was to be lost with them. 

So, Gennady sang. He sang the births and deaths of creatures, their breaths and sighs in cycles, the changing colours of trees and plants and the ache of his own heart. This cry made by the messenger of the earth shook the souls of all who listened. It wakened their love for their mother, nature.

(This story is inspired by Gennady Tkachenko, a sound imitator of mother earth)