Like A Photo.

Outside,

The moon is full, and vibrantly peaks through the charcoal sky. It shines down on the earth; a night-light for all of the baby animals trying to fall asleep. There are no scary shadows; no boogeyman scraping at your window. There are no scary sounds; no monsters searching for their dinner. The gentle breeze wraps it's arms around you, reassuring you that everything is ok. The leaves from the maple trees dance with the breeze, swirling and twirling to Mother Nature's hidden music. The grass begins to dampen with kisses of dew, so the little bugs dwelling in the grass can stay hydrated.

It's like a scene from a photo, a framed photo hanging up in a photographer's house, the pride and glory of all the photos.

Inside,

It's down-pouring. The rain is drenching everything in sight, and filling up the room with water. There are no umbrellas, no canopies to take shelter under. Only an empty room, with one door going outside, and a dirty window displaying the beauty of the night. You are in the room, across from you is the long walk; the floor leading towards the door. The gathered rain water slaps angrily at your ankles. The wind is fierce, nipping at every inch of your body. Misshaped shadows line the walls, glaring at you.

It's like a scene from a photo, a crumpled photo lost in the nook of a shelf in a basement, the disgrace of all the photos.

You,

You are drenched and shaking from the rain. You have nothing but the clothes on your back. Nothing to gather, nothing to protect, nothing to save. Everything is ruined. You look down at the heightening rain water, now at your knees. How easy it would be to lay down in this water, and give up you think. Just to forget it all, to let the situation get the better of you. However, you look out the window. The beauty is enchanting, and you long to see it. To feel the gentle breeze hug you, or to see the leaves dance.

That's when you decide that you will face the challenges, just to witness to beauty. You begin to wade through the water. You use all your strength with each step. You are now midway through the room, and you notice a section of the ceiling crumbling away. The shadows are seeming to fade away. With each step, more ceiling crumbles away, and eventually the shadows disappear. The rain still pours down on you, the water now up past your waist.

So close, so close is the brass doorknob. So close is the beauty, you've used almost all of your energy. Before you can breathe a sigh of relief, a sharp, sudden rip tide starts to force you back. You feel your body being tugged by the harsh water, your body a battering ram against the now crashing waves. The waves thrash and thrash and thrash, and suddenly your underwater, fighting for breath. You find the surface, inhaling deeply. That's when you mentally prepare yourself for the end; it's all over. Until, you jut your arm out and you feel the smooth brass doorknob. You use the last of your strength to turn it. You are then rushed out with the water as the room collapses and disappears.

Tired, beaten and soaked, you are then laying in a field, completely drained. Your first want is to close your eyes and rest, but before you do, you look up at the sky. The charcoal sky is sparkled with stars, and the moon is shining strong, illuminating the area. A small smile appears on your face, and moments before you drift off, a pair of maple leaves dance by you.

This is not like any scene from a photo, new or old, laminated or crumpled, in a box or in a museum.


This is life.