Monday, 16 August 2010
Perseus Evades Me
The wind whipped the face of a lone man.
Standing in the street, darkness swam all around him.
Rain hit his skin and face, as he looked up into the endless depths of the night sky.
The church started to strike midnight. The tower, a menacing figure on the skyline. It was ugly and knew that even if it were beautiful it would not compare with a shooting star.
For that was what he was waiting for. A glimpse of trailing light. His hope.
Every year he had done the same, and every year he failed. He did not know why he continued to try but something within him forced him to do it. His hope had turned to despair over the years. Constant ridicule from Perseus who continued to evade him.
The ground was damp. The tarmac glistened. The sound of traffic met his ears and he tried to close it from his mind; everything from his mind. Looking for peace. Tranquillity and equilibrium.
This universe is not in balance. Always shifting. A mystery of incomprehensible magnitude. Yet still we look up to the night sky, at the stars, believing we can find reason and understanding for our lives.
Shooting stars still escaping him.
Although alone, he was not lonely. Far from it, cherishing his friends more than anything. His wish, in fact, was for one of those he loved. It was not an extravagant wish. Not for personal gain; nor of worthy acclaim. It was personal and he felt he was indebted.
A birthday wish.
Yet for all of his friends, he still lived for the moments he had alone. A time for reflection. Rarely in happiness...rarely out of depression.
But in this time he knew he would be accepted in whatever state he arrived in. When leaving his state may not be any different, sometimes it is worse but it is important all the same.
To confront the world, its misfortune and unforgiving nature. To battle the earth, sea & sky for answers.
Alone he stood.
Staring up at the sky.
For that shooting star.
To pass him by.
A wish at the tip of his tongue.
He closed his eyes, and let the entire world disappear.
Tonight was not his night, but one year he will see.
And his wish will be told. To grace the air with its words. And find their way to whom ever was the object of his hope and thinking.