Wednesday, September 21, 2005

Like the Morning

It was dark and cold. He was outside. Lost like on the day he was born. He looked around and saw the familiar flickering of a promise. His eyes started flickering too, as he saw the flame. It was beautiful, dancing, burning, singing even, like a woman, as if only for him. But the flame was feeble, and the wind was blowing at it, quickly taking its splendor away. He ran towards it, brought himself close to it and enveloped it with his trembling half-naked body, protecting it and himself from the unforgiving breeze. But the flame, now sheltered from the wind, grew stronger, came to him passionate and hungry, and mercilessly burnt his dry skin. Startled by the sudden heat, he stepped back. But the wind came back quickly. The beautiful yet feeble fire started to die again. He feared losing it, and panicking, held it again close to him, just like a child. But the flame, safe again from the wind, grew wild and strong and licked at his skin like a thirsty dragon. He stepped back screaming, shivering from the cold and the pain. How could he possibly be close enough to the flame, gather its warmth and save it from dying out, without charring his chest and blistering his hands. How could he get the warmth without succumbing to the greedy blaze.

He couldn't.

He curled up by a tree, saving whatever heat he had left to get through the night. While he trembled in the cold, he watched the flame slowly fade into the darkness. Quickly, at the mercy of the wind, it disappeared. His skin was burnt, but he missed the warmth, because that's all he could remember, right then, in the cold. He cried. His tears brought him peace. While he was crying, he slowly fell asleep.

A million hours later, the morning came, determined, from behind the hills.

He woke up. He was drained, burnt, frozen almost, but alive.

The cold was much easier to bear now in the sun. Lightly touching the burn marks on his chest, he promised himself not to ever fall into the arms of another fire again.

He stood up, shook away the sleep and the pain, and walked.

He didn't really know where he was going, but, just like the morning, just like every morning since the journey started, he was determined to go through yet another, sad, long, crazy, beautiful day.


Blogger Lazarus said...

One of the most intriguing aspects of this journey of life is not knowing - just as long as the beautiful is mixed in with the sad and the long and the crazy. Great piece. It sparkles the imagination ...

4:11 PM  

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