17 views
Keep Rising
For few days now I've observed the ascension of the moon - gliding its way through the clouds in silk motion that easily sleeps (sic) past the eyes.
It starts as a giant orange hanging from invisible ropes over the landscape, just peeping from beyond the horizon; perhaps shy of its dirty orange color, wanting to be sure it's alright to take over the watch of the night, too dirty to release the fullness of its brilliance in the dark skies.
It stealthily slides, layers of dust and debris, witnesses to another day of toil, sweat, consumption of bitter bread as reward blur vision of it. I wonder if it sees me that way- blurred out, indistinguishable from everyone else.
Maybe she's been working all day in places we know not of or still is under the influence of a long day of sleep, whichever applies, sluggishly she floats in the mist of darkness.
She's graceful in her movement,
yet I can't help but wonder if there are things distance conceals from even the observant eyes, struggles unknown from afar, battle cries unheard of when you're not within the hostile territory, the fights to survive that seem an enviable life from a distance.
For I see how through the clouds she sieves her way, sometimes as though negotiating for a passage, at another, she's bullied into the background while she supplies luminescence that colours the otherwise seeming desolate expanse, no she doesn't dwindle her glow, her strength and unconditional devotion yet show.
But sometimes- silence!
She disappears into a thick dark cloud I see not a trace of her existence. I squint in hope to catch a glimpse of her. Silence. I watch. Nothing. She really must be tired and have succumbed to Nature's admonition for a rest. Well, then, we'd have to see you some other day. And please next time, don't just give me the slip. Goodnight, I mutter to her certain she's already fast asleep.
I'd have easily taken a beratement than seeing her smile so genuinely as she resurrects from the darkness that was thought to have conquered her. I don't know if I'm supposed to feel guilty, but I find myself mirroring her smile.
You just need to listen carefully to hear the background music play, thematic of the procession, resonating... with the ascension; could see that as she rose higher, she shinned brighter, even though she now looked smaller. But her glory could not now be suppressed. The music climaxes as she rises to a height I have to raise my head up to have a view of her. She looks down upon me and not with the slightest iota of haughtiness, but as one who through the furnace of affliction and strait had acquired this exalted position and so could relate with the weaknesses I feel as she witnesses my failures and discouragement. I could almost hear her whisper through the zephyr that coolly blows despite the harmattan cold, softly saying
#KeepRising
#KeepFighting
#KeepDreaming
#KeepShining
#KeepInspiring
#KeepLiving
-Jean
It starts as a giant orange hanging from invisible ropes over the landscape, just peeping from beyond the horizon; perhaps shy of its dirty orange color, wanting to be sure it's alright to take over the watch of the night, too dirty to release the fullness of its brilliance in the dark skies.
It stealthily slides, layers of dust and debris, witnesses to another day of toil, sweat, consumption of bitter bread as reward blur vision of it. I wonder if it sees me that way- blurred out, indistinguishable from everyone else.
Maybe she's been working all day in places we know not of or still is under the influence of a long day of sleep, whichever applies, sluggishly she floats in the mist of darkness.
She's graceful in her movement,
yet I can't help but wonder if there are things distance conceals from even the observant eyes, struggles unknown from afar, battle cries unheard of when you're not within the hostile territory, the fights to survive that seem an enviable life from a distance.
For I see how through the clouds she sieves her way, sometimes as though negotiating for a passage, at another, she's bullied into the background while she supplies luminescence that colours the otherwise seeming desolate expanse, no she doesn't dwindle her glow, her strength and unconditional devotion yet show.
But sometimes- silence!
She disappears into a thick dark cloud I see not a trace of her existence. I squint in hope to catch a glimpse of her. Silence. I watch. Nothing. She really must be tired and have succumbed to Nature's admonition for a rest. Well, then, we'd have to see you some other day. And please next time, don't just give me the slip. Goodnight, I mutter to her certain she's already fast asleep.
I'd have easily taken a beratement than seeing her smile so genuinely as she resurrects from the darkness that was thought to have conquered her. I don't know if I'm supposed to feel guilty, but I find myself mirroring her smile.
You just need to listen carefully to hear the background music play, thematic of the procession, resonating... with the ascension; could see that as she rose higher, she shinned brighter, even though she now looked smaller. But her glory could not now be suppressed. The music climaxes as she rises to a height I have to raise my head up to have a view of her. She looks down upon me and not with the slightest iota of haughtiness, but as one who through the furnace of affliction and strait had acquired this exalted position and so could relate with the weaknesses I feel as she witnesses my failures and discouragement. I could almost hear her whisper through the zephyr that coolly blows despite the harmattan cold, softly saying
#KeepRising
#KeepFighting
#KeepDreaming
#KeepShining
#KeepInspiring
#KeepLiving
-Jean
