My Home

The sun shines a light orange-yellow blanket of bird breath as it sets in the weary thickness.

It’s definitely far enough along in the season for it to be cold, but tonight the weather feels perfect. It’s that type of air, that type of temperature that ones skin cannot discern whether there is even an atmosphere around it, touching it, holding it.

The sky is a plethora of colors as the sun reflects off the remnants of the clouds that crawl through shallow pool of blue. The main street of the town resembles paint cans that have exploded in a room of cabins and church steeples and post offices.

The sun has been placed behind a set of hills. Tall, living, breathing and menacing trees tower above the horizon as if to make one last attempt at heaven.

The street is black like the murderous night but the sun; the sun hits the face of the earth like a bomb. The buildings are no taller than two stories and are all painted with white wash and have stoops and porches and rocking chairs on their fronts. The town’s street lamps have just flickered on and the smell of dinner lingers in the air as if to taunt the hungry. To the left is a park perfectly strewn with full and billowing oak trees and carpeted with a hue of grass that has not yet been created. A winding path makes its way through the park and is spotted with benches built from the wood found in the tall and proud trees that cover the hills. The light from the sun shines from the side and weaves its way through the leaves of the oaks as if to be searching for something it had lost.

I stand as still as a mountain and my hands lie still in my pockets. My breathing is as calm as the breath of God and my mind is as free as the day it was created. My soul finds itself souring out of its binding and able to explore the glory that lies before it and my eyes glaze and come to rest on the sun before me. I stare and stare until I can stare no more, and then I stare until I am blind; it is uncontrollable; it’s unbearable. I stare until I leave my body and see myself standing on the rain-covered street below with my lips coming together and then curling at the edges as I continue to stare off into the sun. I continue to rise above the street and the sun begins to come closer and closer and finally I am engulfed in a light so brilliant that my words come to a failing point.

And as I pass through and my mind empties and I lose my memories, pain becomes something that I once believed in and is now nothing more than a single, solitary fairy tale that once was. I am unashamed and my hands begin to rise upwards and the hands of heavenly glowing creatures seat me in a throne and a crown is placed upon my brow.

I look all around and see kings and queens seated all around me and before us all is a Glorious Creature wielding a sword of fire and looking upon us all with eyes of the purest white light. He holds out his hands and fire comes form His mouth and a thousand angles fall from on high. Then, as if it were the most natural of things, a million voices rise in unison and shout and sing and yell in the truest of jubilations.

And it is here that I realize…