I have a pigeon-sized heart. Just at the sight of danger when I have no where to fly I close my eyes and for the moment to honour myself as a legitimate prey of any danger. Just like a pigeon when I am helpless and see myself unable to fly, I stand straight infront of the enemy to come and relish the taste of my blood on its tongue.
It was late in the afternoon I was again going through a phase of severe depression. I lied on the glass table just to feel the cold plain glass against my hot sweating skin. Opening my eyes I could see the ceiling fan trying its best to ward off the heat. Closing them I could see , well... not see it directly. . I was seeing into my heart. Wishes bubbling up before my eyes. Fluttering their wings in a glamorous fashion. Flaunting their beauty and charm and their priding themselves on occupying a special place in the heart. They were proud that this special place wasn't occupied by anything but just extraordinarily special things like them.
Run in the daylight
Shine with the sunshine
You pixie, playing in your pixie dust
Fly with the sparrow
Then there your smile aglow
Your sparkling teeth under the gleaming sun
This is how I felt when I saw my wishes fluttering their wings . On top of the world. Seeing them rising and reaching the sky line then beyond. I gasped. That excitement was enough for me to bear but as I opened my eyes I saw them nowhere. Just the ceiling fan.
The end of my reverie. My spirits can go high as much as they want but not far then the ceiling of my home.
Just like the pigeon facing it's hunter, I closed my eyes back in fear of realizing that this was the end. End of my reverie.
The more I think the worse it gets
Then why I can not keep the worst out of my mind ...
I want to fly away along with my wishes. They are so beautiful and charming. I want to take a step and in that step I want to reach the heights . Is it my mere assumption or are they really so extraordinary and beautiful ?
Alas!
Whatever it is, it is deep down in a safe and sane haven of my heart, a gold vault locked and dutifully protected and kept.
YOU ARE READING
Reverie
RandomThings mostly aren't like what they seem. If I'd spoken my thoughts out I would've been considered schizophrenic but the calm and poise I have pasted on my face, well it isn't so. I see things you don't and I learn what a few know. As I close my eye...
