Umbrella

The clouds are endless. They are not the wintry, wispy clouds of an imagination, floating lazily over a soft blue sky. No, these clouds subsume the very suffocation of a nightmare ... a lost, lonely nightmare. They stretch over the horizon, dipping and curving into an endless grey smoke that destroys every bit of light behind it. Today, my eyes reflect the storm. They are not their usual green; the leafy color sparkling the delightfulness of joy, of pleasure, of life. Today, I cannot recognize my gaze in the mirror. My eyes smoulder grey, inky depths, a mysterious void that even the sky begs to echo.



The rain is blue, beating incessantly on my windows. Puddles swish in the streets as cars slice through them, dragging them along under their black tires. Today, I am the rain. I can't stop pounding a bothersome beat, a simple annoyance. Today, I am the whipping wind, a force that commands the trees to bend in my wake. Yet again, I try to stop, but it's impossible. I am vulnerable, yet impenetrable. I am stooping, yet I am still standing tall. I will fight til the end, even if I break inside.



Today, it is stormy. I am not upset with the weather, however, even though it is a shadow over the clear skies of my dreams. For once, I understand. I understand that in order to stay strong, you must sometimes break down and let it all out. Looking into the deep, swirling, infinitive roof of the world, I realize that sometimes, the world must cry, too. Our world must let it all out because sometimes, that's all you can do. Tomorrow the rain will be gone, and the sky will be clear once again. The world will stop crying. Its pain will be gone. Until then, I'll simply put up an umbrella, and I will just continue to walk on.



Photographs courtesy of myvintagevogue.com.