DREAM
What finally appeared before my eyes...
...was a grand blue sky.
Somehow he's always known it. Somehow. Blue, as far as the eye can see. A blue that's so beautiful, so untouched...
..so beautiful that he hates it.
Admiration and hate courses through the air. This sky that he's always had a longing for, to reach out and touch, aim for, hope for, soar--
--so close, but so far away.
The grass beneath him tickles his face, swaying lightly in the breeze, each stalk pointing upward like the one next to it. The petals fall from the sky, fall, but the lotuses face up, rising from the mud, from the murky waters below. Out of the darkness, into the light. Reaching. Reaching.
For the sky.
And so he reaches, too, from where he lies on the ground, even as he sinks beneath the grass and the surface of the water. For the sky that everyone shares, yet no one understands. For the sky he has only heard of, where they can live under it as equals. Each as beautiful as the rest.
We always believed that.. when we get through this sacred war..
..there will be a world that we dreamed of.
Because aren't we all lotuses? These poor, pitiful flowers. Rising from the dark depths of the water, blossoming, blooming, living. But in the end, even they will die, even they will sink back into the mud that they rose from, even they will--
--disappear.
The sky gleams a dark, rippling blue, wavering and distorted by the rippling liquid. Just like this, he can almost reach out and touch it.
Almost.
Then there is a hand plunging into the pond, small, feminine, smooth skinned. It reaches for him, grasping at nothing, missing his own hand by inches. He renews his attempts, futily moving against the water's gravity and reaching.
A blurry face speaks to him mutely.
Until the last petal falls... I'll be waiting.. forever.
But how long can forever last?
He gasps out silent words. "I love you, forever."
Forever. But how long is forever? How long? The sky is forever. Never ending, never ceasing. A wide expanse of blue. Blue. Sky.
His hand falters, fingertips grazing the palm of the foreign hand, and everything goes blank. The water is deathly still, and there is nothing else. A rippling blue above with waving cattails and grains, an impenetrable blackness below that the roots reach for infinitely.
This world is dark.. and it's hard to breathe..
At this rate, why don't we just.. fall back into slumber?
Into the darkness, far, far away from the sky. Fall back into slumber, into a world of black and mud and death.
He closes his eyes as a lotus drifts down past him.
"Let's just go home again."
Maybe, if it sinks deep enough... even a dying lotus can reach the sky reflected on the pond's surface.
...was a grand blue sky.
Somehow he's always known it. Somehow. Blue, as far as the eye can see. A blue that's so beautiful, so untouched...
..so beautiful that he hates it.
Admiration and hate courses through the air. This sky that he's always had a longing for, to reach out and touch, aim for, hope for, soar--
--so close, but so far away.
The grass beneath him tickles his face, swaying lightly in the breeze, each stalk pointing upward like the one next to it. The petals fall from the sky, fall, but the lotuses face up, rising from the mud, from the murky waters below. Out of the darkness, into the light. Reaching. Reaching.
For the sky.
And so he reaches, too, from where he lies on the ground, even as he sinks beneath the grass and the surface of the water. For the sky that everyone shares, yet no one understands. For the sky he has only heard of, where they can live under it as equals. Each as beautiful as the rest.
We always believed that.. when we get through this sacred war..
..there will be a world that we dreamed of.
Because aren't we all lotuses? These poor, pitiful flowers. Rising from the dark depths of the water, blossoming, blooming, living. But in the end, even they will die, even they will sink back into the mud that they rose from, even they will--
--disappear.
The sky gleams a dark, rippling blue, wavering and distorted by the rippling liquid. Just like this, he can almost reach out and touch it.
Almost.
Then there is a hand plunging into the pond, small, feminine, smooth skinned. It reaches for him, grasping at nothing, missing his own hand by inches. He renews his attempts, futily moving against the water's gravity and reaching.
A blurry face speaks to him mutely.
Until the last petal falls... I'll be waiting.. forever.
But how long can forever last?
He gasps out silent words. "I love you, forever."
Forever. But how long is forever? How long? The sky is forever. Never ending, never ceasing. A wide expanse of blue. Blue. Sky.
His hand falters, fingertips grazing the palm of the foreign hand, and everything goes blank. The water is deathly still, and there is nothing else. A rippling blue above with waving cattails and grains, an impenetrable blackness below that the roots reach for infinitely.
This world is dark.. and it's hard to breathe..
At this rate, why don't we just.. fall back into slumber?
Into the darkness, far, far away from the sky. Fall back into slumber, into a world of black and mud and death.
He closes his eyes as a lotus drifts down past him.
"Let's just go home again."
Maybe, if it sinks deep enough... even a dying lotus can reach the sky reflected on the pond's surface.