A Quaint dream: Words and thoughts, passages of prose, like a faint passing dream from my recent trip. Part Three.

Part three!  These posts were easy I guess, I just love writing about the mornings and early dawn.  I think it stems from the fact that I just love abstract beauty or moments where you could totally write in a horror story or a moment of change or the beginning of a journey, there’s just a lot of material, a lot of feelings that can be processed.  Plus I had heaps of time to think about it in the car…

 

PART THREE>

…The rising sun on the horizon assaults my vision.  It is a splurge of rose red-orange, pale pink and blue.  It covers its landscape with a healthy, beautiful and familiar sunrise glow.  Not even the trees can hide.  Lining up on the highest peak, a hill that is a patchwork of sundried, gold grass and green grass, are the actors that are the sole focus of the show.  It is they, a silhouette of the same size and nearly the same shape, branching out from either side, that are against such a mesmerizingly elegant backdrop.  Their faces are hidden but their shadows are important.  They’re like little soldiers, just with more arms and one leg, and the fact that all they’ll ever do in life is grow taller and taller, stronger and stronger, bear fruit, maybe, and shower the land with their leaves.  I think to take a picture, but I know I cannot capture its mesmerizingly dazzling beauty.  I know I’ll be too slow.  I know, once the moment passes, I can’t capture it again, not even with my meagre, compact camera.  So I look and write instead.  I must capture it.

And it passes.

I feel the sun.  It will be a hot sun.  I can tell.  It’s the colour of the dawn and the heat that radiates even though the sun has barely risen yet.  If the dawn is orange rather than rose-pink, I think it’ll be hot.  It’s like a fiery glow…

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