A Cloudy Day of Wishful Thoughts
It was cloudy, this day of simple unimportance that seemed to move on forever in it's slow, steady flow of uneasy particles that traveled the breeze. If one were to look upon the clouds on this particular day, the movements of their obscurity took the spectator by the hand and guided him or her among the dirt road of uneventful prospects. What could even possibly happen on this day I call a cloudy one, one of dampness and the non-compliant serenading of timeless threads unbeknownst themselves.
The heartache could have been almost overbearing, the sights of nothing and everything seemed intertwined in a journey towards who knows where. The know-it-alls and the I-wish-I-knews only wanted favoritism from people who all wanted one thing, objects and material wealth. I wish there was some way this world could realize the importance of nothing and it's standards of livings to be secure and fresh in scent and sight. Those walks I took throughout the day took me to this classroom or that classroom, from this or that house, but in reality I just wanted, no needed to find myself.
There was only one wish I wished for every day from here back upon the day I had been released from the womb of eternal white light, the wish of a writer. The willful desire I thrust upon paper every day in the hopes that creative reactions will come from eventful causes, but not uneventful clauses. Oh the hampered thoughts I try to decipher on a daily basis as the walks go from sunny to dark, from windy to still, and even more terrifying, sun to rainy dilemmas as he cries his failures away. What if what have you, these trumped cards of imperfective regards that have befallen me.
I only wish for someone, anyone to notice my struggles and desire to make life better for myself, my family, my future legacy to be held in warm spots among the outskirts of the camp fire. Where is the just flame that can show me the true path, my true intention of unprecedented capabilities that I myself cannot see nor hear fluently. Only in short bursts may I realize my ability, but then, oh then it simply disappears like a balancing act of tantalizing fears of maybe they don't care, of the millions why pick me?
Will the world realize that I have continued the effort that they wish for me to succeed, and like a shotgun blast they fire down on me. I only ask that those that blast my emotions step away for just a moment, because the day has come and gone for me to make a difference, and instead I will make a landslide of revival efforts. There is no more testing the waters as I create the paths needed for unmistakable glories that will ultimately befall me. Well I cannot wait for that day, wait it's gone again, just stuck here wishing for it to arrive once more.
The cameras have rolled on down the hall, my mind simply trying to keep up with the movie that plays on like ruffles under my moonlight tapestry. One day I will find the pleasures of life that many other on the top levels speak of, those elites that hold their hand out to mine just an inch beyond my reach. Although in my mind I know I will pull out that ladder of desire and trusting guidance and follow them into the clouds, reality speaks clearly asking others to give me the help I need, will you help me?
If you like my creative writings, feel free to check my others at:
- An Unlikely Meteor Shower
The night sky was filled with the events of a meteor shower, but something was different. In a moments glance, the entire world was upturned, and the energies of the planet and the universe revealed themselves. What is this energy?
- Gold's Travel
A awkward emotional trapping of Gold and its adventures. This particular writing gives light to an inanimate's emotional turmoil that a human can't recognize.
- The Ripple that moved the forest
A ecosystem survival story in the most unlikely of places, a story of a frog's most prized possession, his fear of losing self and society he prized most.
More by this Author
Sylvia Plath Analysis of "Daddy". This is an analysis by a poet based in the WWII era around the time of Hitler and his regime that spread through western and eastern Europe.
Story of an hour by Kate Chopin, a critical analysis of a story about a wife that finds a unbalanced emotion that strikes her soundly.
America-Allen Ginsberg Analysis