Manninu88
06-13-2015, 05:15 AM
Was it the clouds that covered the light blue skies of a warm summer’s night in June?
A young man sat contemplating the sudden shift in late evening dynamics. He looked out from within not moments ago to varying colours of powerful blues and pinks, with protruding slashes of black – that was the night’s darkness he thought, but it had not been seen to him over the informal hours of late.
For two nights no more, he had been presented with a spectacular circus of presumptuousness, all in the form of splendid summer night skies.
The colours of which that could paint a rainbow.
Although tonight the clouds from the west have blown in, and a blanket unwanted has shielded his beautiful visage redundant. A bemused young man he quickly became, as he searchingly looked from left to right, and then indeed all around, his head fully extended. He almost looked like a man who was demented in his garden, if it wasn’t for the fact he was still perched irregular indoors by some means impossible to human physiology.
In his kitchen he was no more.
With a racket, a heavy thud, and a painful tumble this young man had landed in a pottery mess of squashed flowers and dirt. Of which he had only but an hour ago watered down, along with the rest of the garden.
He had indeed fallen.
“Ouch! That hurt, and I’m a bloody idiot.” He immediately stated to himself, this not being the first time.
A surfeited feeling of admiration then overwhelmed the young man as he lay flat on his patio, with legs crossed, arms flailed apart, torso to one side, and head uncomfortably resting on broken terracotta. A woodlouse even clambered up the side of his cheek, only to fall off and disappear into the dirt beneath.
He was gazing at the stars, and they all winked back at him.
He held out his hand and pointed to one particular star which twinkled with a commanding brightness. An encapsulating embrace he immediately bestowed with this star, and it was like a connection he had felt before, much closer to home, a whole deal nearer to his heart. Something, or someone was trying to send him a message he thought, but only the whispers of branches swaying in the wind he could hear. The occasional hum of a car some distance away, also reminding him of something which he knew already. He would cover the star with his thumb for a second or two, only to worry himself over the solitude in which it brought.
“I’ll do it one evening, and when I move my thumb back, you’ll be gone.” Doubtfully, the young man exclaimed.
Only one question then crossed his mind.
A question which he knew would bring no answer, a question which would bring no closure, but a question he thought to be appropriate, given his current situation.
He removed his thumb, put his arm to rest by his side, and vacantly observed the sparkling white glow above, to which a question was raised where there would be no answer.
“Is that you my dearest, is that you?”
A young man sat contemplating the sudden shift in late evening dynamics. He looked out from within not moments ago to varying colours of powerful blues and pinks, with protruding slashes of black – that was the night’s darkness he thought, but it had not been seen to him over the informal hours of late.
For two nights no more, he had been presented with a spectacular circus of presumptuousness, all in the form of splendid summer night skies.
The colours of which that could paint a rainbow.
Although tonight the clouds from the west have blown in, and a blanket unwanted has shielded his beautiful visage redundant. A bemused young man he quickly became, as he searchingly looked from left to right, and then indeed all around, his head fully extended. He almost looked like a man who was demented in his garden, if it wasn’t for the fact he was still perched irregular indoors by some means impossible to human physiology.
In his kitchen he was no more.
With a racket, a heavy thud, and a painful tumble this young man had landed in a pottery mess of squashed flowers and dirt. Of which he had only but an hour ago watered down, along with the rest of the garden.
He had indeed fallen.
“Ouch! That hurt, and I’m a bloody idiot.” He immediately stated to himself, this not being the first time.
A surfeited feeling of admiration then overwhelmed the young man as he lay flat on his patio, with legs crossed, arms flailed apart, torso to one side, and head uncomfortably resting on broken terracotta. A woodlouse even clambered up the side of his cheek, only to fall off and disappear into the dirt beneath.
He was gazing at the stars, and they all winked back at him.
He held out his hand and pointed to one particular star which twinkled with a commanding brightness. An encapsulating embrace he immediately bestowed with this star, and it was like a connection he had felt before, much closer to home, a whole deal nearer to his heart. Something, or someone was trying to send him a message he thought, but only the whispers of branches swaying in the wind he could hear. The occasional hum of a car some distance away, also reminding him of something which he knew already. He would cover the star with his thumb for a second or two, only to worry himself over the solitude in which it brought.
“I’ll do it one evening, and when I move my thumb back, you’ll be gone.” Doubtfully, the young man exclaimed.
Only one question then crossed his mind.
A question which he knew would bring no answer, a question which would bring no closure, but a question he thought to be appropriate, given his current situation.
He removed his thumb, put his arm to rest by his side, and vacantly observed the sparkling white glow above, to which a question was raised where there would be no answer.
“Is that you my dearest, is that you?”