Forest of Glimmering Lights

The travel of lights is intercepted by opaque bodies, for long. Here is the land of greyish black, as colours have no chance to be reflected back, to be wondered in an endless visit of the shadows.

The joyous song of the birds sounds close like a funeral hymn, poignant heartening trying to lift up a dying soul. The vivid flowers around the dense bushes scatter more like achromatic bouquets of a requiem.

This is not a death scene, unless the earth stop rotating around its axis, where all ticks of time end.

With wide eyes open, the pools of glimmering lights can be sensed. In doubtful corner, it is just another call to be answered, to keep them alight until the search reaches its destiny in this promise land, the time where all the shades are illuminated by the waterfall of bright sunshine, through the blue window of the sky. One day, if it may.

Fireflies wing their ways around in this forest.