The end of December

The dark cloak of the night brought a soft tremor of infinity.

A deep silence in time gave room to the small touch of the song of Eternity, leaving as witness the hard pinpoint of a star that illuminated the countryside.

This cold light played with the lightweight shadows of the soft hills and with its brightness covered the span over the hollow of reality.

The occasional bleat of a lonely sheep in the mountain herds punctuated the quiet night air.

Interspersed with the silence between the bleating seemed to be a expectancy in wait for the right moment when Mystery would touch this rough part of the world.

The whole Universe will follow this simple touching that will travel quivering toward the future until be lost in the final musical notes of the overture of Creation.


It happened!

No, it didn't!


Wonder of wonder, the riddle of belief or disbelief! The intangible load that, as an arcane gift, lives or does not lives, in each one of the human creatures treading on Earth.

A riddle that was not to be disclosed until each one of those human creatures reach the final entropy that will dissolve them into nothing, re-establish Chaos in his old throne, or realize the Eternal Promise.

Meanwhile, in the sloping soil of a small country, the query keeps its secret:

Was it the crying of a child facing his first breath of air, or was it just another bleating from the sheep that populated the fields?

''that will travel quivering toward the future until be lost in the final musical notes ''

I would say that you should remove the 'be', or replace it with, 'it becomes'. :)

I enjoyed this. A little written dance.

This is excellent reading. It's not every day you come across something like this. This writing is a good example of INDIVIDUALISM, which is my favorite "ism" in literature.

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Originally Posted by BookBeauty

''that will travel quivering toward the future until be lost in the final musical notes ''

I would say that you should remove the 'be', or replace it with, 'it becomes'. :)

I enjoyed this. A little written dance.

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Undoubtedly you are right, BookBeauty! Coming with a purely positive futuristic sentence there is no place for the subjunctive here! Thank you for pointing it!
Your suggestion is absolutely correct!

Glad you enjoyed the tale. It tries to keep the steps of the eternal dance in our actual earthly performance!

¬O.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by WolfLarsen

This is excellent reading. It's not every day you come across something like this. This writing is a good example of INDIVIDUALISM, which is my favorite "ism" in literature.

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Thank you so much for your comment, WolfLarsen.

There is a strong component in your words that urge me to develop and increase the effort to grow in this field!

I must delve into those "ism" so as to understand better the ways I am trying to wander in.

¬O.

This could, I suppose, be described as a prose poem, as one can sense the writer striving to be lyrical. Unfortunately, the majority of the piece generally deals with abstractions, that is, concepts lacking an actual person which could conceivably exist or at least a living, breathing agent bringing about such emotions, or even the person himself experiencing them. I don't want to be "Nietzschean" or stridently critical here, but this piece of writing strikes me as the fictional counterpart of the kind of writing which we used to call "Educationese"-- a bunch of passive constructions free-floating in turgid prose in which the reader can never determine who is doing what to whom.

On a brighter note, the last few sentence seems to come "down to earth", so to speak with specific images that are concrete and have some correlation with the senses: real things that we can see, hear, touch, smell, and "feel" in a palpable sense.

Again, the main thing this piece is lacking is the human element.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by AuntShecky

This could, I suppose, be described as a prose poem, as one can sense the writer striving to be lyrical. Unfortunately, the majority of the piece generally deals with abstractions, that is, concepts lacking an actual person which could conceivably exist or at least a living, breathing agent bringing about such emotions, or even the person himself experiencing them. I don't want to be "Nietzschean" or stridently critical here, but this piece of writing strikes me as the fictional counterpart of the kind of writing which we used to call "Educationese"-- a bunch of passive constructions free-floating in turgid prose in which the reader can never determine who is doing what to whom.

On a brighter note, the last few sentence seems to come "down to earth", so to speak with specific images that are concrete and have some correlation with the senses: real things that we can see, hear, touch, smell, and "feel" in a palpable sense.

Again, the main thing this piece is lacking is the human element.

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It is an absolute true the description you made of this short writing, AuntShecky!

So much so that it was thought as that, there is no human intervention in the whole tale, that is the perfect lacking when the possible intervention of Perfection bursts into reality, in the human supposition there is a Perfection and a reality, of course.

I may disagree, but not too strongly, with the idea of a "striving to be lyrical", far from it. Lyricism is one of the human productions and have not place here, as there is not place for anything prosaic either.

As you wrote in closing your valuable comment, the tale lacks the human element which in itself steals from the text anything human, as it was intended.

The whole idea was not to "give" any holding to our down-to-earth brain to reason the events, if there were any events!

Thank you so much for your post!

¬O.