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Spirit and Spring
Was I the present darkness amidst omniscient beauty? Today that would change.
--
Stepping outside towards the passenger seat, my eyes are blinded by 10:45 a.m. and protected by scattered stratus. I step in the metal. The initiated-crucible atmosphere complimented the car’s icy breadth. Played, the radio, with upbeat, uplifting praise. Such was to my ears what the stunning scenery of artwork that only recently sprouted again; that the Painter would allow one to touch: Trees among its leaves among its flowers bathed in colors; settled in grass covered with mass-moss, majestic metals marching more monumentally (was to my eyes). Such was to my vision what the sweet and glacé fluid that flooded the vehicle’s troposphere; that originated from jugular and juice was to my olfaction. I sank into cushion and watched the mustard seed sprout.
--
Walking, outside, toward a new house, I drown in calm awe at the orchestra that inspires with its natural and automatic keys, conducted by peaceful quietude. Beauty, a second species of it, introduces itself to me in unison with its host- my brothers and sisters, perhaps those I wished who would soon be. Although near midday I stare at the breaking of dawn as I turn around the corner of the house. Climbing the stairs allowed a simple sip of the faintly audible from behind the doors.
--
A leaf, two, of the mustard grew at the presence of supplementing water that splashed upon me with full force on cue with the opening of the door. I moved from my gleeful paralysis unto my seat, noticing the clouds that produced such waves. On my side, a window; angled sunlight pierced through sharply. I notice the rejoicing royalty in their honorable purple, strengthening black, and innocent white. I notice, as strange as it was to me; as the crowd calmed, the lightweight heaviness of the Word that I read as the equivalent was rushing to my ears as still water. But soon I was confronted by the reoccuring harmony of notes and voices; an overwhelming joy and spirit among the cheerful crowd. Next, inspiration; empowerment; reassurance from the victorious- yet sentimental- testimonies. Following those was the cleansing lecture from the preacher. Through such I learned of my crimson, and the invisible gift that was obviously at my side. And as it came time, in our privacy among the public, I opened the gift and engulfed the light, as it engulfed me. The mustard plant grew deeper roots. I noticed that this year, not only the nature’s stagnant life, but also a presently darkened soul was brought back to life this season.
--
Was I the orphaned doom amidst blessed family? Through adoption, that has changed.
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This is one of my works used in competition with Celtic.M
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