Afterglow

Jul 25, 2015 By Sara in Prose Tags: dream, memory, time

The sun left her star in the sky, streaked the horizon with golden streams. There were no shadows, only reflections. My mind wandered upon the rose-hued heavens, searching the face of God with a will so sublime. The heartbeat began to slow into a whisper, and the call of the wild pulsated in the silence.

It was always there, a strange dream on demand. The emotions would capsize and subside, and give birth to something new. Each time I would remember, and keep the tears in a tired bay. We came in and out, old fashioned and useless. The golden time had come to pass, secluded into memoirs, dimensions beneath us.

The memory fights to breathe, suffocates the coming of age. A newfound hope, stirring and tempting neglected desire…is this a blessing or a curse? I read the story from back to front, and went no further. There were tremblings in every word, a possession with every thought. I knew nothing of futures aborted and made to cease, and yet I tried, to my detriment.

We were a frame out of time, like the midnight sun that hung with all reason in the undulating sky. There was fire in our eyes, and I touched a dream, for the very first time. It shocked my being with a wildness so fierce and raw. Nerve and instinct met human emotion and desire. I collapsed.

In the eve of a world’s turn, the ancient waters carved time into a song. The divine light shone and soothed with every whirl. The story was a circle and in the afterglow, we were finally free.

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