It inhales the early morning air, fresh, tangent with diesel, with petrol, with a sort of smog that fills your lungs. It’s a concrete jungle inhaling the smell of panic and thriving on the worry that seems to infect the rush hour crowd like a plague. It towers, it’s waiting to conquer the urban wastelands on the outskirts that have not yet admitted that there’s no escaping the giant beating heart that is engulfing the core. At times it is deceitful, it offers an adrenaline rush to the susceptible, a feeling that at first is warm and inviting, that makes it seem like it is humming, buzzing with excitement. It poses as a metropolis of life, and you can become tricked by this mirage. It’s only as the clock ticks on, when darkness cloaks the skyline, that the cracks of society can be seen. There’s a sense of desolation in the midst of the morning before the city awakes and the cycle repeats itself.
Leaves that symphonise in rapunzel orange, spiraling, twisting amongst the cinderella branches that try to escape their captive, the tree of knowledge. There’s no sign of goldilock’s rays that yesterday chased away, replacing the happiness with the goblin’s smoke that infuses the evil that is to come, creeping closer, ever closer.
Quintessential beauty amid the azure skies, streaked with the bubbles of joy that frequent this time of year. Her lemonade laugh fizzes as it overflows, trickling wildly, naturally. A mellow whisper is soaked up by the others as the honeybee buzzes through the haze. She breezes through the meadow, her giggles mingling with the air that’s heavy with the sighs of the dragonflies that meander gently through the green sea that seems to foam at her feet.
A strike of lightning dances across the floodlit sky, taunting the thunder, tempting it to retaliate. It smiles, smirking as it closes in, gathering followers that are responsible for the chasm of boulders that aim to conquer as they tumble rapidly out of the sky. They each mirror the other in a locked combat that causes the inferior below to meekly submit to the gods. Rain maliciously spits in the chaos of the torment, taking it’s place in the elemental battle. The spirals start to spur upwards in a torrent of fear as the war above the earth rages on. Eventually the clashes become weaker, the storm surrenders, and the skies become still, transient, as if blood had never been shed in the clouds. Rays of gold start to blossom, spreading, hugging the survivors, offering repent.
I shiver in the twilight, my fingers intertwining with the dusk that smokes so delicately around me. Tendrils of amber forlornly waver in the wind. The moonlight begins to dapple the earth, illuminating my chosen path. I’m inert, lost in the cinderella leaves that autumn imprisoned and that summer discarded. Like me, they know they don’t belong here, but they’re gasping to find a place in this silence. Bitter wings disturb in the distant gloom, tarnishing the beauty of nothing, threatening to impose. Sunlight has said it’s goodbye, the remnants of orange and pink fading into darkness that feels like a heavy blanket, suffocating the thought of tomorrow.