About Last Night
What happened between the silence, between the lights and shadows of last night? I’m back in a corner where I spent the night few days ago, still reading – a different book – caught in a semilar web of thoughts. There must be something in that corner, in that space why I need to return.
Between reading and the silence, the memory of the fireworks return flaring in my mind with the fleckering headlights reflected on the walls. The frantic mood and sounds, the glowing faces and sparkling eyes of the crowd watching the colorful burst of light in the evening skies. A fleeting treat to the eyes that stayed only for a brief moment and then desolve with the smoke clouding the horizon. What’s left are memories that the crowd take as they slowly parade home. Often, I feel like the fireworks – things make me float in the air, seeing colors of temporary bliss and then gone desolving in the air like smoke clouding my hopes. What’s left are memories.
Between the silence, between the lights and shadows of last night, the memory of the flickering headlights of traffic returned. The sounds of vehicles’ coming and going, you could not tell the difference. The city never sleeps. It goes on no matter what, even if somewhere some souls are happy, or sad, or hurting. The traffic doesn’t roll to a halt even when you’re tired but can’t sleep. The city would not cease to move even when love opens or closes its door on you. It goes on even if you continue to struggle to take grasp of life or find a sudden enlightenment from the brief reflection of headlights on the wall and then gone. What’s left is emptiness.
Between the silence, lights, and shadows of last night I awake – I’m not sure if I even slept – with the cries of the birds taking flight in the early morning skies where the fireworks desolve leaving only hints of memories in the thin clouds floating, in pastel colors signaling daybreak.
Between the silence, lights and shadows from above, the birds look down to the city that doesn’t sleep, they know the terrains below, much more above them. They know that the city lights and the fireworks are temporary, the birds know better. They have seen what we neglect to see.
Watching the sunrise that peered through the city skyline, I briefly saw what guide the birds’ flight every morning. Colorful than the flares of fireworks, brighter than the flickering headlights.
If we’ve stayed a little longer after the fireworks desolve with the smoke in the evening skies, like the birds, we would have seen the clouds clear in the horizon and above are the real fireworks that are constantly there.
Because if we stayed long enough, we would have seen the stars and they are there forever.
—
I will tell you about the rain next time.
jeques
Jeques's Web Nook (YEAR NINE) 
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