#prose.from.a.rose - SIX:
The shadow that stalks me so carefully speaks only in whispers,
fading like smokes in the dying shades of grey that cry out so loudly for even a drop of colour.
But it's silenced by the rays of day, sunlight screaming for it to die and seek its unfulfilled dreams deep within the realm of non-existence.
What choice does it have when a torch is pointed in its direction but to cease to exist?
"You banish me and I shall brand the colours of your mind with my haunting smiles! Whiter than pearls and wider than those produced by Cheshire cats they shall be!"
"Mere words from a diminishing pile of dust soon to be nothing! Please, stop, before I look like a Star speaking into the void of nothingness to my peer planets."
So it was painted out of the night sky forever, a hint of black snuffing out its tiny light. Even a mere firefly would produce luminosity mightier.
But the sun had underestimated the power of imagination. Behold, the fabric of dreams woven tightly together with thread and needle, or colours so vivid yet pale they transcend the material world, but cross the line between our reality and divine fantasy.
You know what I speak of, because everyone has been touched by such mysterious images and sounds. They are dreams and nightmares! Premonitions or visions of incantations written by darkening inks onto paper so precious it had to be folded and slipped inside the heart of a locket.
Each unique to its person and particular epoch, frozen in time until it fades like the past. Like running sand that dissolves into a golden sea that mimics grass for miles.
Oh such dystopia, such utopia. Such fables that cast momentary, finite euphoria upon sentient beings whose eyes disappoint them with solid sights tangible by the palms of hands or toes of feet.
By Neptune's seas, we could drown sense with the lot of them. They hypnotise, they numb alike. They pacify, they hush too.
They blur the eloquence that recollection has the potential to convey.
Silent like the aliens want us to be - for humans must not interfere with those who live on the many stars sprinkled above. They insist they are titans but they are no more infant children than we.
Just know that all beginnings are like ends.
We live as we dream: alone.
∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎
ద ద 𖦊 ꪉ 𐀔 𐃸 ద 𖦊 ʊ
༒ ༒ ༒ ༒ . . ༒ . . ༒
༒ ༒ ᜊ ༒ ༒ ༒
༒ ༒ ༒
༒ ༒ ༒ . . ༒
༒ ༒ ༒ . . ༒
ద ༒
༒ . ༒
༒ . . ᰔ
༒
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YOU ARE READING
Prose from a Rose
PuisiMy first collection of prose. Though I have written prose before, I have finally decided to publish some pieces of my prose here on wattpad. I usually write poetry and already have three poetry books here on Wattpad. The first being 'Poetry by Eclip...
