Home
I stepped out lastnight. Boredom, whatnot...but something called me outside. And there I sat on cold wooden stairs, able to see my breath in the night air, to watch the most beautiful ballet known to man.
The sky was alive last night, with crackling energy.
It was beautiful, it started dim in the north, a white glaze along the tree tops, and then a spire of green shot to the centre of the sky as I watched. And from there the lights pulsed and throbbed, performing thier masterpiece without any music known to man. I watched till I couldn't feel my toes any more, I watched till the ballet had come to a crescendo, a rippeling climax. And I had a front row seat, with the wind in the trees, leaves falling, and a babbeling brook as an orchestra.
And I realised that I was home again