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Wrote this upon going out, sitting on my porch,and seeing what's been right under my nose. |
Always indoors, inside a wall of solitude. Preferring the dark shade of curtains, Counting on closed doors to shield me. Outside is an unfamiliar place. Sitting now under the looming trees, listening to the sounds of the waterfall. I feel as though I've found a momentary utopia in my own backyard. Seeing my own outdoors for the first time, Like a masterpiece waiting to be painted. Not just seeing it, but taking it in completely. Meditating on the beauty I so commonly take for granted. The way the sun's ray's bounce off the tree's, casting a bright splash of green swaying into the wind. The wind, moving everything ever so gently, every leaf, branch, and twig all floating together, trying to sway as one. Their noises calling out to each other, urging them to move throughout the roaring wind. The treetops in the distance nounce back and forth as if they're dancing. All while the water flows, basking in the light of the setting sun. Reflecting all that's around. The lake reflects all in colors so brilliant, they'd never be found on any artist's palette. The reds of the mangos still sitting way up high, the bright blue of the two bluebirds, chirrping about, and the greens. The ever so lustrous shades of green. Neon paired with almost black. Yellow sitting on dark evergreen... I could go on.. Although, I cannot. I have to go back inside, back to the quiet of my television set, and my too cold air-conditioning. Back to the place I can so barely stand, yet always seems to summon me back. |