Broken Teacups

iii. beauty of the ground and secrets of the sky

the sky is blue with a hint of pink laced through it messily, blotches of red here and a small patch of orange there. the setting sun sparkles, its light no longer strong enough to blind someone, but containing just enough brightness for the city to not be submerged with darkness. a lone cloud stretches it's tendrils across the paint-filled canvas, as if stretching lazily, ready to settle down in bed and say goodbye to this day. 

as time passes, all the colors of the sky merge into one beautiful purple, a light shade at first, that slowly develops into a rich, dark blanket filled with tiny blinking dots at irregular places. these dots appear like the headlights of cars on an overflowing highway, each vehicle racing to get somewhere, may it be home or hell.

the pavement was cracked and dusty and utterly uninteresting a few minutes ago, but now looks like a menacing slide in a bully's backyard, its dark gray slope beckoning, calling for someone to go down it, unknowing of what they will find at the bottom. it is lined with trees on both sides, lush green trees, with yellow and white flowers peeking out from their leafy exteriors.

in the brightness of the early evening, these trees were light green with faint bits of yellow. slowly, they turned into a deep green interlaced with black and brown. now, they simply stand there like guards, their leaves rustling softly in the slight wind, waiting for an intruder, waiting to pounce, to protect this city and its residents.

i can see a trace of my reflection in the stars up above, a part of my soul on the road in front of me. my heart leaps out of my chest and floats towards the horizon, where the beauty of the ground meets the secrets of the sky.