AUTHOR'S NOTE
Ayo!
Okay so before you read, beware that i wrote this for guilty pleasure only, and it isn't more than a mere pointless 570-something words, slightly poetic drabble. It's not intended to be entertaining or appreciated in any way whatsoever, but if you thought it isn't completely terrible… brilliant! Let me know via review/PM!
(I know the end is awkward, mind you)
I wrote this while listening to Sleeping At Last under a friend's recommendation, hence all the metaphors and descriptive excess (SO MANY ADJECTIVES AND ADVERBS). Sorry about that. Also if you know this artist you might recognise some lyrics - not exactly as they are in the songs, of course.
Er… that's all. Read on (if you fancy to)!
In the darkest of dusks, a million stars shine like slivers of broken glass. Moonlight pours upon the forest, creeping inside through his closed eyes, contagiously bright.
All he has ever wanted is a remote place, to dream about and to hide within; to close his eyes and end this fight. Ducking past its sweeping, elegant branches, he has found his little haven. The air he breathes is so pure it burns his lungs, smothering from inside and cleaning his crowded mind. He'll be waiting here for the night to come and rescue him, lifting his feet off the ground, feathering a ghost of something more.
Now the war is over, he has found his way back home. He let his wounds and scars heal, while yet another war began: one that only he could feel. His days have grown so long, endlessly filling him with sunlight, confusing his young instincts. Now he's been praying for some advice, admittedly for the first time, for he knows there are ghosts in the heart of every broken man. Once your back's against the wall, your feet slipping off the ledge, there's nothing more than ghosts. And they have haunted him since the day when all of this began.
Lying on the grass, he listens. It is the imposing silence that astonishes him the most. It has never been this loud, drowning every other sound; it leaves no room for his troubled thoughts. He marvels at the sight- infinite ocean and infinite sky. The moon commands the tide to balance the space, just as the eastern lights are born. an outline of buildings can now be seen over the skyline; his eyes reflect their gleam, like a tipping glass within the ocean.
Whirling hurricane of thoughts, he tries to push them away. His mind keeps threading marks of question marks and regrets.
Time heals all, they say. He longs for an hourglass, to move a grain of sand and speed the progress of fate. The clock, though, refuses to tick faster despite his burning ache.
Into the darkness, he gives his heart to the stars, praying for guidance from an absent father. They yield to his will, for the dark is him, and he is the dark. He recalls a time, a dire and distant time, when he was desperate and broken. He would do anything for the slightest hint of comfort. Seeing there was no place for him on the surface of this world, he found shelter within the no longer alive. He founded a kingdom of bone and fire, lit up by the memories of a past life: it was the ghost of a home.
Without his knowing, the moon has retreated and the sun has resurrected, ending the circle of an eternal love. Slowly, the sunlight wakes the earth from its deep sleep with angelic caresses. Blushing blossoms at bloom, the sounds of a stirring forest surround him.
As he blinks back into consciousness he decries a dishevelled-haired head next to him; he props himself up on his elbows and watches his lover sleep, thankful for this rare moment of glorious peace. The boy's golden skin gleams under the sunlight and he thinks, in a deep, remote corner of his mind, that there isn't anything more worthy of observation than this boy. "What a treasure," he whispers with a caress to the boy's cheek.