Monday, August 9, 2010
The sun is setting; the sky an azure shade. Now that the bulk of the day is done, I can rest. Even the clouds seem to agree; dragging their feet across the sky, hanging on to each other, pulling each other along. A lump followed after them, like a baby whale keeping up with its pod. Birds dived in and out of the sea of trees laughing and playing with each other.
Oh the evening sky certainly is beautiful, as though God had mixed too much water into his blue palette and splashed it across a giant canvass, spreading the diluted color over us (The baby whale is gone, left with the pod) The birds continue to dance and dive, dance and dive; individually and together. Are they family or friends? Why are some alone and some in a flock? How can some simply separate themselves from the crowd? Time rewound itself, and I was again a child wondering, imagining what it is like to be a bird, what it is like to fly.
I would like to fly endlessly towards nothing in particular, but just fly against the backdrop of the sky; worries and concerns become their own solutions. I would land on a leaf of a palm tree to rest and gaze at the world around and the world below wanting to tell them the beauty is up here, and with a light kick off the leaf, I take flight again. But alas, the dreams of a man are but merely dreams, providing a short avenue for escape before reality hails us back.
fire and ice clashed at [1:03 AM]