Saturday, June 19, 2010
Like a spreading wakefulness, it drowns everything in a pale blanket of the un-colour.
I see white trees, spread against a white sky, white leaves ruffling against white blades
of grass, pirouetted by an unseen wind.
There is a white hut on the valley which has white people. Their hearts bleached, they go about their routine of white mundane existence. They have white emotions; no space for tears or frowns or dimples. Are they sad? I think not; for black does not exist in this world.
The white is not snow. Its not the clouds either. This white is like an awakening;an enlightenment.Its what people having near-death-experiences see at the end of the tunnel. The brightness of it is all consuming. It seeps into the innermost recesses of everything; the stoned death-games of adolescence to the acknowledged survival acts of the elderly, and wipes it out with a sweeping wash of white. Everything is settling into a white stagnation; all sounds dissolving into a fused white static, when the first notes of discord strike.
The red first begins in the top right corner, and then slowly slithers downwards, leaving a crismon river of chaos on the way. More of it appears; its tendrils now starting to cover the remaining whiteness of existence. A drizzle of red now ensues, covering the white grass with red thoughts and slowly drenching the white skies in an smatter of red imaginations. The picture is now completely red; a picture of murder, a cesspool of unabated passion.
A clap of thunder makes me open my eyes and come back into the forest. I am drenched; just like the forest floor with decaying leaves and moist emotions. I look up to see a raven looking down at me from the lower branches of a tree. It gazes at me for a moment before leaping into the skies in a flappery of black beating wings. Did it have the same dream?
" Stupid human! He should have carried an umbrella in a weather like this!The thunder must have scared him shitless!", the raven caws, as it flies higher, reaching out to a black ink expanse of the night sky.
"At least he did not have my dream..."