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Blindness In Sight Samara
The world moves; silent, detached and ignorant. A grey blur which passes with such individual conformity that it becomes nothing more then a choreographed performance. Each motion rehearsed in the screaming silence of ones mind, over and over, for perfection is the only desire yet remains all but attainable.
The world stirs; each colour blending to form the black and white pigments of…a dead world an ashen existence…a grey world. Just like an ocean, breaking deep, dark and doomed, with the never ending tides pounding thick with emotion against the corroding rocks of sanity.
Thunder cracked far in the distance against the blood red sunset of a warm summer’s eve. Serah stood, a vibrant image, glowing against a lividness world of bricks and stone. The gentle wind, whispering its secrets to those compassionate enough to hear, caressed her hair. Strands of ebon licked her face as her mane cascaded a black waterfall down the breeze.
Deep pools of emerald glistened with tears as she looked at the insipid world she was a part of…she didn’t belong here. Slipping her eyelids and caressing her checks, the tears fell to stain the cold ground darker and yet her black heart was scarred darker still.
The distant shriek of a train echoed slowly closer.
The harder we look the more blind we become, the greater we crave companionship the deeper loneliness pains and the wider we open our hearts, the more potent is the poison that pulses our veins with each beat of agony.
The vastest things in life are those we may not learn, nor be taught, or offer some restraint over. It is a very small comfort indeed how pitiful if our enforced return to those small things we are truly masters of.
We live out lives as slaves, mere pawns in a game of kings, and yet we live in a delusion of control. Our limit being the tightly bound constraints of our emotions and the superficial taint we place upon them.
Vaguely hearing the ring against the hum of engines and click of tracks she opened her phone to see his name flashing brightly against the screen, “Hey baby…yeh it was fine…no really it’s ok…mmhmm…yep…sure…it’s on the way now…yep the 6 o’clock…yep…love you too…here it is now…love you.,” the phone clicked shut and she stood alone waiting for the impending train.
Desire is the most dangerous of masters. To desire is to covet and we covet only that which appeases the eye and therefore live in a false sense of security which only deteriorates with time. It is this superficial compulsion that leads the mind into the pits of endless delusion. To seek that which feeds the soul, rather then the eye, is to know contentment within ones self.
“You sound a little young to be in love,” the strangers voice shocking Serah as she turned to face the old women who spoke.
“You wouldn’t say that if you saw him,” she joked, but not untruthfully.
As the train clicked to a stop before them the old lady pulled down her glasses to reveal 2 milky white marbles, “I don’t think I’ll be seeing much of anything,” she joked, but not untruthfully.
Oh crap…“I am so sorry…I didn’t mean…” she bit hard on her lip as she longed to take back the words that slid so carelessly from her mouth.
“Let’s say you keep an old gal company on the long ride and we will call it even”
“Errmm sure” she muttered trying to hide her reluctance…who wants to spend an hour next to some old bag.
“Excellent, well on we get.”
The greatest of wisdom can be found in those whose inabilities allow them insight to such things our privileges divulge us of. We need to lack something to appreciate the joy it brings and we need to forget something to remember how it once made us feel. To live without something is to smile on the times we had and to truly cherish that which remains within our grasp.
Sitting in silence Serah couldn’t take it anymore, “Have you always been blind?” her tact lost within curiosity.
“My, my no. I once had the pleasures of watching the world move in all its beauty.” She replied with a smile which was aimed more at the window then Serah…by choice or by accident remained unknown.
“You don’t seem sad. Do you not miss it?”
Too loose something is to love what remains within our grasp…
“The greatest happiness can be found within the imagination, contentment until you open your eyes and are pulled back into the harsh light of reality. The way I see it is I never have to face the lies my eyes show me, I can forever live in my contentment. I can feel your soul; rather then see your mask”
The train clicked to a stop as Serah reached her stop. Standing in silence she stepped away from the lady to the platform and stared at him…she had missed him so much.
Closing her eyes she brought a dead world back to life. Behind a black shroud she watched the world move; peaceful, beautiful and warming. A coloured blur which passed with such unique individuality she couldn’t help but fall in love with the perfection it held.
To be blind to a façade is to know the truth in all is awakening glory.
“You look ridiculous, open your eyes. What are you doing?”
Through closed lids she whispered, “I am looking at your true face, and I’m falling in love with your soul.”
The world moves; silent, detached and ignorant. Moving as such because our sight leaves us too blind to seek the beauty it truly holds.
READER'S REVIEWS (5) DISCLAIMER: STORYMANIA DOES NOT PROVIDE AND IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR REVIEWS. ALL REVIEWS ARE PROVIDED BY NON-ASSOCIATED VISITORS, REGARDLESS OF THE WAY THEY CALL THEMSELVES.
"I also enjoyed this...not fair to not tell me who you wrote under before...I do not recognize your writing style...atleast give me an old title or something?!" -- mattie.
"You have an amazing talent" -- kwilt.
"Thank you sweet angel...I worried about you" -- mattie.
"This is a tad too pretentious. Added to which this is some annoying alliteration and repetitions- "Sitting in silence Serah..." "The train clicked to a stop as Serah reached her stop." As you definitely have a command of the language, I would like to see you write something more honestly felt, something about real people with real problems. "Standing in silence she stepped..." " -- Edmund Jonah.
"Excellent piece of work, l wish l could write like this. "the train clicked" you used the sound for expression the way a blind would use his or her hearing. " -- Amy, London , UK.
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