The City The lights shimmered on the horizon, sparkling like a luminous blanket of quiet, over the city. suddenly, a brightness, glows red to orange then yellow. The alarm rings as the city twitches in her sleep. A bright cluster of lights from the downtown office buildings, rise out of the blanket, like a fist sticking out from under the covers. A dark Chinook cloud lurks overhead, like the edge of an umbrella. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, moving across the sky above. Lighting up the umbrella, flowing strength into the fist. Shifting under the blanket, the city rolls over and turns off the alarm. A shower of light bathes out the sleep from her eyes, as cars leap along the streets. Her pulse quickens, as the lights turn on and she stumbles out of bed. The darkness vanishes, unnoticed, as orange becomes yellow, and yellow turns white. The umbrella becomes the blanket, warm light blue and ruffled. Slowly being turned back, as a new day begins. DCP 85/10 (Written from a 14th floor apartment in Calgary, Alberta) If you never push yourself until you fail, how are you ever going to know when you succeed? DCP 85/12 It is easier for a blind man to see the person in than for you to see the person in him. DCP 86/01 You will never expand your mind, if you do not challenge your beliefs. DCP 86/01
Posted on: Wed, 23 Oct 2013 12:53:39 +0000
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