The winter sun brought out the purity of the heaven-given snow, as if were a blank page for our merriment, inviting the feet to play and the spirit to laugh.
Not quite the hot dark of embers, but a soft, hopeful dark. The dark that comes just before the sunrise, a kind of dark that helps the orange and gold blossom across the sky, like a small flower trembling open in spring. The dark that encourages you to fall asleep as you close your eyes, tossing and turning in a futile attempt to slip away into the depths of unconsciousness, blissfully unaware. The type of dark that occurs in a complete solar eclipse, blocking out the light, the noise, the feeling of being, leaving you in the silence of serenity, if only for a few seconds.
The roof tiles had developed a sort of patina over the years, from the lichen and the weathering, rendering them all the more beautiful.
I never met a lover before who made every other man appear as if he were a two dimensional paper drawing, men who would melt in the rain and burn on the first rays of a strengthening sun. And this confidence in your soul, in who you were born to become, as the man who stands with me, is the finest love letter I can ever write. For words are only the crude tools of emotion and it is my heart you have won.
Feet firmly planted on the ground I look up at a defiant sky, the dome of our existence. I see no fairness there, no sense of responsibility. Some days are dark, angry, bitter spitting rain, hail, fire and brimstone. Others calm, serene with light fluffy clouds as if there wasn't a care in the world. Why? I ask myself are some people drawn towards the former, and others towards the latter.
From the level of friends to nations, in the pandemic the phrase, "Friends first, competition second," took on a grander significance.
They were more like shadows than physical beings - lightly resembling humans-shape wise, but only black smoke. Each form rippled whenever it moved like disturbed water. The only way I knew they were looking at me was the white eyes with a slight blue hue that stood out against the darkness.
I originated from a cruel place. Was raised among barbaric conditions, and faced brutality. And finally, I learnt callousness. I became stone-hearted. But when my little bundle of joy arrived, a thing me and my wife made, when she came- my daughter; everything changed. She reminded me of love and bond. I couldn't let her into the world of viciousness. She was soft, and breakable, like the snow. She was was gentle, and she was my world. I knew, that if she ventured into my dark world, she would hate her own existence. I desired my daughter to have a life of positivity and satisfaction of living authentically on purpose. She was the melody of my beating heart. She gave me hope for the future. She was my life, my world- I decided, she would live a good life.
The notice board sat there on the grey paving stones, its white letters so vibrant in the summer sun. I read it everyday, and it brought a smile to my soul every day that showed ever so slightly in my smile.
As the curtains open the deep gold of the room becomes the flamboyant buttercup yellow of every daydreamers wanderings.
He sighed and looked at her with those blue eyes touched by storm clouds. She had never seen any emotion in them other than contempt. But now they embraced the wind. A brief gust before returning to a calm sea.
It’s not possible that one would write for no reason, so read because that is the only way that we transfer knowledge from the brain of a writer to a reader, or from a writer to the whole world.