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Literature Text
There is this thing called life.
To some, it is an eternal basket full of wonders. To others, it is a bell that does not ring. Sometimes, it is a torrent of acid rain, pelting down and melting those flimsy facades, peeling away the wall of lies and kind words. Sometimes it is a dark cloud that obscures the vision, whilst seeking to dampen the skin with paper sorrows. Sometimes it is a light so bright, that the darkness seems to be most comfortable, and one hides from the offerings the light brings. Today, it rains acid. Today, the water burns with the malice of a thousand tongues. Today, the pores have become sizzling pools of the most vile potion.
My friend, I cannot change the weather.
If you are caught without your umbrella, without your protective layer of soft lullabies and whisperings, the weather will show no compassion. For the weather is not an animate being. Yet you are affected by it. Affected by the ominous clouds, the sharp lightning, the hazy cerulean skies. The weather has made you feel, and no amount of water or windproof clothing can hide that from the world.
So laugh. Cry. Smile and embrace those near to you because for all these ailments, the weather will eventually morph into something new.
To some, it is an eternal basket full of wonders. To others, it is a bell that does not ring. Sometimes, it is a torrent of acid rain, pelting down and melting those flimsy facades, peeling away the wall of lies and kind words. Sometimes it is a dark cloud that obscures the vision, whilst seeking to dampen the skin with paper sorrows. Sometimes it is a light so bright, that the darkness seems to be most comfortable, and one hides from the offerings the light brings. Today, it rains acid. Today, the water burns with the malice of a thousand tongues. Today, the pores have become sizzling pools of the most vile potion.
My friend, I cannot change the weather.
If you are caught without your umbrella, without your protective layer of soft lullabies and whisperings, the weather will show no compassion. For the weather is not an animate being. Yet you are affected by it. Affected by the ominous clouds, the sharp lightning, the hazy cerulean skies. The weather has made you feel, and no amount of water or windproof clothing can hide that from the world.
So laugh. Cry. Smile and embrace those near to you because for all these ailments, the weather will eventually morph into something new.
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I just watched Before Night Falls, a story about the Cuban writer Reinaldo Arenes and his journey through life. It was very good, but also very sad.
And I have a headache and can't get anything done, like my homework.
And I have a headache and can't get anything done, like my homework.
© 2008 - 2024 Snozzberry4947
Comments6
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That was great, all of the metaphors spoke so well. Although it was prose, it read like a poem.