Noite de Carnaval

Walking outside, I try to look up at the stars, but see very few, what's left of them is seemingly diminishing as I go on; the cold air is keeping me on my toes, sending shivers down my spine, all the way to my feet, and finally into the hard and equally cold ground, neither ground nor air able to freeze the other. In my wintry walk, I continued down these cold concrete roads with my hands in my pockets, the glow of the lights in distance and, just above me, a streetlamp beams down its lights upon me as if I was some famous actor on stage, or a criminal as the police and news helicopters roam overhead. But I continue down these old concrete roads in my somnolent walk, never too hasty, unlike the quick, chilly wind. The lights in the distance get brighter with each amble step, red, yellow, purple, green and so much more is, all so close, yet intangible. So, I continued down these potholed concrete toads, and I remembered a saying my mother used to tell me, "Stars were Windows into heaven, Windows for God to look through to keep an eye on us." Yet God must have gone to sleep tonight I thought as the final star faded as I approached the Carnaval from down those spoiled concrete roads, and with all of its mixed colors and bright lights, the Carnaval was more blinding and blurrier than actually festive. I tried to look the best I could, but saw only blurry, colored light, and no matter how hard I tried, there was seemingly no one in sight. I thought I heard singing and dancing, even when I was approaching the festival, but all that has seemingly been replaced with a subtle buzzing noise, like that of office lights. But that's all there is anymore, artificial light, drowning out anything real and natural. It's blinding, deafening, and paralyzing. And on a Noite de Carnaval, I can only pray one final thought, open Your real Windows back up, I denounce the falsehood of these imaginary windows and of those broken concrete roads, and I call for the end of all unreal.