Humble Me

I don't know where this afternoon sun came from, after hours of cold and gray and two dry winds whistling at one another from East and West.

I wore my light jacket and little napsack and took refuge in the great halls of the library. And upon coming back, with my hair wet and fists clenched to the spines of books, I saw an old, forgotten dusk I thought I'd never again see.

For the skies cleared and presented the world with the antique-kissed glow of a paradise with red and orange skies that stretch out afar. Beyond the road, where everything seems endless and narrow. Looking behind, there's childhood.

The river flows one course--I know I've seen this somewhere before, far far ago. The world is at peace from here.

Standing with arms outstretched, I waited to recieve the gifts of paradise: when the small child awakes and brings you everything that you've stored behind in that wooden box.

When I've made mistakes, walking through the dampened sidewalks of youth, I've known initially that I would regret it. As my feet pressed down on that wet cement, and as my skin glowed with the dusk, I found that somewhere between the two extremes of reason--wrong and right--there was a lost moment of pure happiness.

I pray you tell: What do you say, when it's all gone away?

aeka at 5:55 p.m.