Apr 02
21haze_f's picture

Darkness Bathed in Gold

         When the buds finally erupt and give in to the headstrong spring-sun, early life breaks out under its tight grasp. The crippling frost of the December-blues finally retreats, and there is room for the buds to dare to ignore the call of the dark.

         Ignacio stood facing the sun which caused his usual-pale skin to become washed out to a faint hue of yellow. He felt how goosebumps filled his arms, and how the warmth tingled and swirled all around him. His sturdy legs burned from marching around, fingers eagerly gripping his camera to capture images, in the search for the ultimate, exemplary photo. For now though, that could wait. The room was filled with the sound of blackbirds chirping, accompanied by the sun blazing through a wide window. He now bathed in the sun-rays which warmed his heart that hadn't felt the sun grazing over it for months. His navy-blue eyes were closed, his long eyelashes faded out, his white shirt looking as if it glowed when it reflected the light. It was as if the sun grasped its fragile, slithering fingers around all of his troubled thoughts, and tugged at them until they left him to be.

         His eyelids fluttered open and his coal-black pupils diminished, as they were eye-to-eye with the vivid light. A manikin sitting on Ignacio's head had decided to pull the strings that were attached to Ignacio's lips, for their curled form grew into a teeth-revealing grin. His symmetric, wide, pulp lips almost seemed to hurt. He was blinded by the light, and un-geometric zig-zaggy lines of striking lucid red, yellow, blue and purple leaped in front of his decoloured lighter blue irises. Slowly turning his neck to the side, he peered at the black walls that didn't have the luck to dawlde in the balmy warmth; It was captured by shadows and darkness. Beaming, he tried to recall the last time his mind was this free of nagging thoughts and notes of what he had to do over the next hours that were to come. His soul was laughing, swirling around in his body, glad to finally be released. Out of nowhere, Ignacio evoked his favorite poem by J.R.R Tolkien, and couldn't hinder his lips from loudly reciting it:

                                                                             

                            All that is gold does not glitter,
                            Not all those who wander are lost;
                           The old that is strong does not wither,
                             Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
                           
                            From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
                            A light from the shadows shall spring;
                            Renewed shall be blade that was broken,                              
                            The crownless again shall be king.