"Memory, all alone in the moonlight. I can smile at the old days, I was beautiful then." - Memory, Elaine Page
Everyone associates storms with fear. Not the stale, creeping fear which haunts you, but the vivid startling threat that can bring you back from the dead. And aren't we all at a stage in life when everything inside of our pretty brains is in a disarray? It seems like we are playing host to a great blizzard.
But even tempests can hold beautiful secrets.
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| Lightning courtesy jakethesnake999 (Deviantart) |
I spent last night staring at the ceiling, at the darkness which rose like an angel into the sky. And while I lay silently, I played with my hair, in an unconscious effort to release the thoughts inside my head into the air right above me. It was a cold night. But cold, in a very reassuring way - I was very glad I had finally escaped the heat. My phone lit up, as I regulated the gentle volume of Memory and hoped that one day I'd be able to see it performed live, in front of me. Music, theater and dance - they are all the same, they make you feel emotions you never knew existed inside of your soul.
"The streetlamp dies, another night is over."
A flash of lightning interrupted my thoughts. I gazed out the window, and through the pink glazed curtains, I saw the the forking lines of electric blue, glistening silver, with the brilliance of platinum crawling into the sky. The rumbling of the Gods crept in. And for a minute, the fear in me sighed. How beautiful! The clouds were accumulating, covering every patch of empty sky, except one tiny spot from where the moonshine tenderly flowed in. It was a heavenly view, to watch the mighty invincible Nature perform such a dramatic play.
Another flash. This time, it was more tremendous, with the grandeur of a gunshot in battle. It lit up my room, making the pale green wall-paint glitter in the darkness. The crystals on the chandelier reflected the temper of the storm, jingling slightly, quivering like feathers in the wind.
Thunder inspires my imagination in so many ways. I always imagined Zeus to have sat on a majestic throne atop Mount Olympus, throwing the most ridiculous tantrum over a plate of broccoli. Or Thor, the Norse God swinging the powerful Mjolnir in a drunken craze. But, I believe in that a little less now. Just a little less.
There, in my room, I was surrounded by the warmth of blankets and love and many more such valuable gifts. And to me the storm was an impeccable decoration of nature. But to someone who lives beneath the bare sky, this very decoration was a terror of gigantic proportions. Almost comparable to the wrath of every Titan combined.
Sometimes I wonder, is it really all just the perspective? How can something so frightening be also admired? Are we like that too? We are all viewed so differently by every single person out there. How will we ever know which perspective is the perfect version of ourselves, the version we envision to be the best?
"And what of it?", you may say. What if I am the Storm?
I'm beautiful yet awe-inspiring. I'm loving and caring yet frightening and adamant. I'm patient and stubborn, I'm everything I can possibly be in this form. I'm the glass-shattering fury of a million gods, and I am yet a thousand shining patterns in the sky.
"I must wait for the sunrise. I must think of a new life."
The Storm is essentially just a passing phase, and yet it is very beautiful. It inspires and perseveres and rages and kills, and at the end of it, people are infused with a fighting spirit. A desire to brave The Storm, to live on and on and fight more and more. A desire to save their loved ones, and a desire to save themselves.
Even though I cover myself in this familial warmth, I feel a shiver down my spine. Nobody is safe from The Storm, but it's how we see it, that will change us and make us who we want to be. This memory is fading, like all memories we make. Everything is in a way, like the Storm.
This too shall pass, this too shall pass.
The tumultuous voice of the heavens plays in the background accompanied by the fading tones of Memory. And with this thought, I turn over and go to sleep.
