Sparks Fly

 

It was through the black grills of my windowsill that I saw the first spark. The spark that would soon implode into the obsidian sea overhead and etch its signature onto eternity’s slate. Of course I knew that the fireworks would vanish with a flourish, into a puff of smoke. Hastily. All pretty things fade away. Isn’t that what life is about? Eternal transience? One fleeting moment chased by the next? We’re all just pieces of a puzzle, waiting for that click. Longing for that one moment, that one final day that we can say, ‘I’m content’. Call me delusional, but I await that moment as well. Do you think it’s going to slip through my fingers? The flames are pouring down, now. It’s a cross between a shower of glitter and a hellfire. I see the extremes. I see its beauty, just as much as I see a sleeping beast threatening to wake. It is as if the dancing freckles of fire are mocking me from up above. Chiding. Warning, even.  What am I waiting for? No one is coming. The sparks were never meant to be my knight in shining armour. Not that I needed said knight. I needed… I needed an escape. Or rather, I wanted an escape. But what good would that be? Wouldn’t that be yet another instance of me prolonging my waiting? When was I finally going to claw my way out of this pit of yearning? Is this me digging my own grave? My happiness lives among the stars. Is it upto me to reach them?  I see a face in the sky. The face of my conscience? It tells me, nonetheless, that I am here. But where am I? Who am I? Am I the listless girl, wearing my windowpane mask? Am I the anxious girl wallowing in my constant anticipation? Or am I just now? In this very moment, who am I?  I am eccentric, I am eager, I am ecstatic to see what I am capable of. I am tired, I am fighting, I am mesmerised by the shining sky tonight. I am angry, I am aching, I am already losing hope. But just as I slip I can feel the sparks- lifting me, caressing me, reassuring me. I am grateful that I am here. ReplyForward