I gaze upwards, only to be met by a blinding, exquisite white light.
Interesting, it really is.
I peer outside, flipping through the thin pages of my inner thoughts.
“That font is somewhat strange”, I think.
Scrambled words outline my charcoal notebook.
I reach for my pen. Compose.
Hiding behind a blank, ever-moving canvas.
Staring at my wooden paint brush.
Tip, tap. Tip, tap.
It’s peculiar what to do with such freedom.
I reach for my brush. Illustrate. Depict.
Tip, tap, tip, tap.
My colorful landscape fades from my infernal eyes.
Lapis rain drops from those dark thunderclouds.
Looking up from my “fortress”, I prepare for the worst.
Sheer darkness follows.
Wandering the distant iron walls, I take my flashlight with me,
I only trust its cold, concrete grip, and its similarly cold glare.
Fleeting memories of vibrant colors race around in my head.
In the midst of the calamity, I wonder, “Where must I be?”
As darkness enters, light does the same.
The outlandish aurora of creation has come.
Sunshine streams through my windows.
I light the stove fire, and look forward.
I finally breathe a sigh of relief.