Aspiringanonymous
April 7th, 2010, 03:41 AM
Let grace slip from these fingers, dancing gracefully to its own accord. Like clouds in a blue sky, joining and parting, collaborating thus with the wind to project various shapes upon the land-borne. Those that gaze up with longing eyes, each seeking for their own ideals to be reflected from the heavens. Their eyes strain to perceive artificial patterns, sometimes with success, other times amounting to only disappointment. But still, they persist, and still, from a realm beyond physical reach, the hands of the sky continue to maneuver its messenger puppet.
It is a breathtaking dance, first against the sun, then the fervent escape from malignant rain clouds. The land-walkers watched in awe as the sacred drama played on, their consciousness swept far, far away, to an equally unreachable dimension as where those same forces which commanded the idolized spectacle reside.
The rain descended now as a raging downpour; it was clear that the naive clouds of the blue sky had lost the battle. But still, the loyal audience stayed put, willingly unprotected against the merciless wind and cold which preyed upon their bodies. Was one figure shedding tears? It could not be determined; perhaps it was just the rain.
From far, far away, exiled white clouds silently observed the commotion. They agreed to display no indication of having seen what they saw, for there had been much more hidden beneath the surface, and it was too much to bear. Their job, after all, was to portray and convey the spirit of innocence to mortals - and they would do it well.
I don't know where I am going with this - more of a freewrite than anything else. Feel free to share your own interpretations.
It is a breathtaking dance, first against the sun, then the fervent escape from malignant rain clouds. The land-walkers watched in awe as the sacred drama played on, their consciousness swept far, far away, to an equally unreachable dimension as where those same forces which commanded the idolized spectacle reside.
The rain descended now as a raging downpour; it was clear that the naive clouds of the blue sky had lost the battle. But still, the loyal audience stayed put, willingly unprotected against the merciless wind and cold which preyed upon their bodies. Was one figure shedding tears? It could not be determined; perhaps it was just the rain.
From far, far away, exiled white clouds silently observed the commotion. They agreed to display no indication of having seen what they saw, for there had been much more hidden beneath the surface, and it was too much to bear. Their job, after all, was to portray and convey the spirit of innocence to mortals - and they would do it well.
I don't know where I am going with this - more of a freewrite than anything else. Feel free to share your own interpretations.