A Painted Story
I want to paint a picture for you; a picture from the past..in 2004 to be exact. Late winter, cold ice and frigid airs whip and lash themselves wildly across the pavement on the streets below the towering skyscrapers. Its only natural that the sky is covered in a dark cerulean web thats stretched itself across the horizon when the sun went down. The towers, oh how I remember them clearly, metal and glass structures shooting themselves into the sky like a redwood forest thats been growing for years. The lights in the windows of these archetectural titans glaze the atmosphere and they echo secret stories of their exsistence. Gleaming and piercing are the lights spread on the streets, LED, sky lights, hologens, heat, color...all sorts of beams of energy lighting up path ways and obstacles against a slow and mild drizzle of snow. Each delicately shaped and dancing in the winds...only to land and conform into a collective.
The ice, formed and blown only to form smooth and wet surfaces over time. Laying upon the ground as if glass had been melted onto the streets, melding blacktop, yellow bold lines and the illusion of glass. I look up and watch this dormant beauty come to life as the people scatter around, some huddled, some rushing for heat but the smiles and laughter are still the same, probably the wamest thig eyes can lay upon. The fur, the plyed layers of cotton, flowing issadora scarfs as the fringes break free into the air, the frosted breathes, the snow boots on the children making the dears walk like robots. This is life, and just because it's cold...doesn't mean it'll stop. The people still continue on their gatherings out in the social world even if it sleeps under it's frozen blanket. It isn't as cold as it seems, as the atmosphere is lit by a blaze of warmth from the people ascatter. That very same warmth eminates from my own body and flees into the sky effortless and free. Taking upon the warmth , a smile smears my face as I walk in this winter dream world. The snow crunches under my shoes making the sounds as if I were walking on pebble beach. My mind is dislocated from all the stress, all the connections, all the wires...completely free from the rigid world I am from. As I proceed forward, my eyes are filled with candy images flocking about my mind is an euphoria.... eating away the feelings, the smells, the tastes , the sights. As I glanced again...there it was, the symbol of this world...red, white, and a maple leaf upon a banner...Im in Toronto. Missions or not, I am here and i've landed n peace
It's only a matter of time I wake from the dream's dream but I will take with me what's rightfully mines: a piece of myself that I lave lost and a piece of this world so i'll never forget