Monday, July 7, 2014

if i stay in one place i lose my mind

As I walked across the shadowy grass, feeling the violescent breeze on my face, I closed my eyes.
The familiar and comforting scene: South Dining Hall, the dark woods of God Quad to my right, the cheerful and neat criss-cross of sidewalks through the sharp green grass, the clock of O'Shaughnessy shining against the darkening sky.
This scene disappeared. But I still felt the wind on my face.
And I painted on the insides of my eyelids a picture of Arthur's Seat in Edinburgh. 
I could see the city on one side of me, far beneath my feet, and on the other side, a grassy hill, which I ran through as the wind bred tangles in my hair.
I felt the exhilaration of leaping from the summit down the grassy slope.
Inside the dark of my eyelids, I saw the Cumbrian countryside--the hills and dales, the sheep lining our path. I smelt the rain, and I felt the shade of the trees and the hard clay underneath our feet.
I felt on my face the Himalayan breeze of Tiger Hill, as I walked through the mountain bamboo and trees of the foothills. I saw in front of me gompas and mountain villages straddling ravines and hugging the sides of cliffs.
I was all these places in one moment, as I walked along the tightrope of the sidewalk, my eyes closed, but my face open to the breeze. 
I lost my breath as I walked through a field of fireflies. 
They leaped through the grass, through the treetops, flickering like a hundred tiny candlelights in the tall grass. I forgot to breathe, as I walked in and out of these wandering minstrels of light. 
It was as though a cloud of stars had grown wings and flown down to dance in this quiet field.
Again, my breath left my body without warning as the half-moon, looking like a delectable wedge of gouda, burst from behind the dusky cloud bank. Shimmering, the moon dazzled the world from her lofty perch in the sky. She shone with all the brilliance of one who knows her special status and delights in it. The clouds were curtains that rolled back to reveal the prima donna of the twilight sky. 
I laid in the grass and looked up at the evening sky. The moon still shone through the wisps of cloud, insistent on shining, despite the chilly shrouds of water droplets that wrapped around it.
This is a beautiful night, I thought to myself.
As if on cue, the bells of the Basilica, that bastion of warm light in the dark of night, played the carillon for Mary, signaling the dusk to retire, and ushering in the velvet night.
As the bright moon shooed the twilight out of the night sky, the clouds flew across the face of the moon, casting shadows, and creating a halo around the queen of the night. 
The twilight tasted like vanilla on my tongue as it faded into nighttime.

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