so it goes

The sky is alive with crimson flames, orange fire and streaks of the yellow embers all burning together as the sun rises. The colours leek and blend into a glorious pattern of shapes and textures which is far too complicated and beautiful for you to understand. Overwhelming.

You want to pick up a paintbrush and paint the colours yourself. Swirling the rich reds, the dusky oranges and the syrupy yellows on the parchment until it is so breathtaking that you don’t have to think anymore.

You remember.

The breeze strokes your face like a lover’s caress as you sit. You sit and you watch.

The colours are fading back into the sky as the sun – a burning circle of white light – rises above the lake. It reflects into the ink-black water and you see a million sunsets disappearing, colour by colour: the cherry red – the colour of her lips; the orange – the colour she painted her walls; the yellow – the colour that she saw when she looked at the sun. Weaker.

It fades, swirls away, and dies in the morning air.

You wish you could appreciate it. You wish you could sit and be bowled over by this picture – this perfect image – you watch as the sun gets stronger and rises up into the blue of the sky – the colour of tears, mourning, coldness, the sea and the sky. Blue.

You name the colours you see. Black – the mountains. Grey – the stone. White – that single cloud. Red – hate. Yellow – happiness. Green – Jealousy. Sickness. The trees. Life.

You blink. You blink again. It stays the same.

You watch and you carry on watching as all traces of the sunrise are twisted away into nothingness and all you’re left with is blue – stretching up to the heavens. It’s everywhere. Sealing you in.

Spring is dawning and the world is still changing. Daffodils and Daisy’s – like she used to love – growing up within the sea of green grass. The whole world is changing again. The sun is warming; bathing your skin with heat and light. You don’t want to appreciate how good it feels to sit and watch. You want to hate the world with all its beauty but your breath has been taken away by it.

Blossom – creamy white. Like her skin – your skin –one and the same. The flowers are delicate and beautiful. Every single one of them perfect and designed that way.

You sit. You watch. You breathe. You wish.

You wish that things could have been different. You wish that you could have changed the ending. Time to move on.

The sun has risen fully and the day is beginning to awake.

Your lips are so soft and kissable and your skin feels the coolness of the breeze. You feel beautiful. You feel at one with the landscape and this beautiful heavenly place even if you feel so woefully disconnected from everyone else.

You sit. You watch. You breathe. You wish. You think. You wonder. You Stand. You walk.

You live.

this story has given me a new taste of what it truly means to live.
Maybe reading Harry Potter fanfiction is lame, but in an odd way I feel more reguvinated by someone’s story than I could ever be from the words of those surrounding me.

http://www.harrypotterfanfiction.com/viewstory.php?psid=260019

It’s long, but more than worth it. The end takes my breath away