As for today, I was overwhelmed by beauty.
Today, I was overwhelmed by beauty. I awoke to the beautiful sun shining its beautiful light into my eyes, hearing his beautiful voice in my imperfect ears. And as I shuffled the long walk down to the hot damp. Stumbling, weary, my eyes fell upon the out-of-doors. Behold! The lightened world of day, crisp and cool, with the sun starting to illuminate the green things. The hotness sparking my brain alight, a thousand thoughts exploding like a torrent as every synapse mirrors the torrent of water pouring over my back. The perfumed soaps remind me of waking up early in the morning in high school so I could get my work done in the pre-dawn peace, while all the others laid asleep.
I walked with a measured pace down the gravel road, the wonderful story spinning out into my ears. The sun, affixed; the earth, a-spin around it; The dance, an inspiration for the figure skaters of the world. There is a moment, halfway down the road, where I smelled such an earthy flower smell that I had to pause and get a proper whiff before moving on. Pondering the intricacies of the smell...hmm...certainly not lilac; maybe partially from the marshy grass beneath the poplar trees. Yes, a combination! The cool water and thick cattails, the sun hitting the damp, exposed, earth, and the wildflowers left from the maddening weather of the past months. Adequately described the aroma in my nose. But yet...onward!
The brisk walk raising my pulse slightly, the world sharpening even more around me, thoughts and body adrift in the morning. Set sail for the learning areas! Stuff my head with a great deal more to think about, every fluttering thought resting lightly before spinning away to be forgotten or archived. I feel a bit cracked sometimes, and worry that the masses of people around me might see it - I promptly cover my eyes with mirrors to eliminate that possibility, my eyes are free to skid over every pretty thing I see: A lovely shoe, a tiny bird skipping over a statue, timid squirrels searching the garbage, soft light dancing over the floor through an old warped window. They'll never know the secret evil cackling within, I can see them all!!
After a few impatient hours I hurry on to work, excited to get there. A bit of time spent making my coworkers chuckle, some conversations that stung and soothed like the sweetest sad song. A razor knife and calming touch that irk and draw me closer in.
But as I am heading back out to sea, and I pass the slow-walkers by, I stop and stare at the lonely path I take to and from work - the one down by the gardens. Spring has been preparing itself these past weeks there, a runner stretching their legs before a long jog. But now...the spring here is in full stride. Petals and bumblebees drift lazily on the slight breeze. The sun perfectly filtered through the broad, thick leaves to prevent the brightness from invading the eyes too strongly. And ohhhh the smell. The sweet, warm smell of earth ready for summer, and broad soft flowers, tree flowers as well as creeping vine flowers. Red as a still-glowing coal, white as fluffy feathers. The fat, lush, crimson clover complimented by their own emerald leaves. The prim purple creepers contouring the trees with their medium, star yellow flowers - plentiful and hanging in lazy bunches, moving with the air currents and increasing the sweetness.
The abounding beauty stalls me, and I linger. I have a few minutes, don't I? I stop to press my palm to a tree, caress a petal, but my flirtations with nature cannot continue. Despite my slowness, the path is turning onto Franklin Boulevard, and a feeling of embarrassment devours me. I hope no people saw my little rituals, as I learned early that they were not for the public, not for anyone but me and the trees. But I take a token to fidget with anyway, a long and supple wispy grass leaf to twirl between my fingers. The seeing of it was too beautiful even to take in, too beautiful to process then. So I step quick and hard down the sidewalk, many thoughts diverted to the archive pools, to be expressed later.
But the ache for those pretty moments remained throbbing in me, all the way home. That ache made all the others so much worse, the acuity, the sympathy, and the unfairness of everything made my eyes sting. No tears come here unless there is great need, but my eyes tried. I leaned against the warm window of the bus, sun drenching me up to the knees, and imagined him there beside me - arm about my shoulders or hand grasping mine. Unfair.
And how else could I describe such a day to someone but in this over-embellished, twilit, story. The spinning constellations above my head calling out
"Please! We would love to have you with us, Lily, the exploration of the Earth is nearly finished, but there awaits for humanity an eternity of universe to decipher and reveal, come to us!"
But I cannot go there, and so I sit and write instead. Write in different tenses, fail to be as beautiful as the flowers I admire. I wish I could only grasp even a percentage of the exquisiteness of what I viewed. But alas, ne'er to be.
I walked with a measured pace down the gravel road, the wonderful story spinning out into my ears. The sun, affixed; the earth, a-spin around it; The dance, an inspiration for the figure skaters of the world. There is a moment, halfway down the road, where I smelled such an earthy flower smell that I had to pause and get a proper whiff before moving on. Pondering the intricacies of the smell...hmm...certainly not lilac; maybe partially from the marshy grass beneath the poplar trees. Yes, a combination! The cool water and thick cattails, the sun hitting the damp, exposed, earth, and the wildflowers left from the maddening weather of the past months. Adequately described the aroma in my nose. But yet...onward!
The brisk walk raising my pulse slightly, the world sharpening even more around me, thoughts and body adrift in the morning. Set sail for the learning areas! Stuff my head with a great deal more to think about, every fluttering thought resting lightly before spinning away to be forgotten or archived. I feel a bit cracked sometimes, and worry that the masses of people around me might see it - I promptly cover my eyes with mirrors to eliminate that possibility, my eyes are free to skid over every pretty thing I see: A lovely shoe, a tiny bird skipping over a statue, timid squirrels searching the garbage, soft light dancing over the floor through an old warped window. They'll never know the secret evil cackling within, I can see them all!!
After a few impatient hours I hurry on to work, excited to get there. A bit of time spent making my coworkers chuckle, some conversations that stung and soothed like the sweetest sad song. A razor knife and calming touch that irk and draw me closer in.
But as I am heading back out to sea, and I pass the slow-walkers by, I stop and stare at the lonely path I take to and from work - the one down by the gardens. Spring has been preparing itself these past weeks there, a runner stretching their legs before a long jog. But now...the spring here is in full stride. Petals and bumblebees drift lazily on the slight breeze. The sun perfectly filtered through the broad, thick leaves to prevent the brightness from invading the eyes too strongly. And ohhhh the smell. The sweet, warm smell of earth ready for summer, and broad soft flowers, tree flowers as well as creeping vine flowers. Red as a still-glowing coal, white as fluffy feathers. The fat, lush, crimson clover complimented by their own emerald leaves. The prim purple creepers contouring the trees with their medium, star yellow flowers - plentiful and hanging in lazy bunches, moving with the air currents and increasing the sweetness.
The abounding beauty stalls me, and I linger. I have a few minutes, don't I? I stop to press my palm to a tree, caress a petal, but my flirtations with nature cannot continue. Despite my slowness, the path is turning onto Franklin Boulevard, and a feeling of embarrassment devours me. I hope no people saw my little rituals, as I learned early that they were not for the public, not for anyone but me and the trees. But I take a token to fidget with anyway, a long and supple wispy grass leaf to twirl between my fingers. The seeing of it was too beautiful even to take in, too beautiful to process then. So I step quick and hard down the sidewalk, many thoughts diverted to the archive pools, to be expressed later.
But the ache for those pretty moments remained throbbing in me, all the way home. That ache made all the others so much worse, the acuity, the sympathy, and the unfairness of everything made my eyes sting. No tears come here unless there is great need, but my eyes tried. I leaned against the warm window of the bus, sun drenching me up to the knees, and imagined him there beside me - arm about my shoulders or hand grasping mine. Unfair.
And how else could I describe such a day to someone but in this over-embellished, twilit, story. The spinning constellations above my head calling out
"Please! We would love to have you with us, Lily, the exploration of the Earth is nearly finished, but there awaits for humanity an eternity of universe to decipher and reveal, come to us!"
But I cannot go there, and so I sit and write instead. Write in different tenses, fail to be as beautiful as the flowers I admire. I wish I could only grasp even a percentage of the exquisiteness of what I viewed. But alas, ne'er to be.