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  • Writer's pictureNatasha D'Costa

The Dark

The sun has run its course, and now ends its day in a lassitude slumber. The cool wind gently blows and bashfully kisses my cheek. She has come from afar but she has places to go and sorrowfully takes her leisure and flies away. High above lies the infinite sky, painted in hazy clouds and a sparkling gossamer of stars. On her velvet throne, she sits, in all her glory, the luminescent moon. The maria, her silver sea, calls to me, to come, and explore her waters. She claims the sky her own, even if it is only for a little while.


Beyond my windows lies the whispering city. Huge towers of glass and wood, staring at me, curiously. All the windows harbour precious, golden lives. Some are laughing over some joke or the other, the teenagers are frolicking in the alleys and some are watching the television by the fireplace, as the light from the screens reflects on the bedroom walls. The city calls to me. Time is endless, it stretches beyond all passing into the unknown. The silhouette of the city, lines the horizon walls, the sequoia in maple park, all but mere shadows now. You can hear the creaking sounds of the cemetery gate of the church around the corner, a windchime of sorts. The city is growing quieter now, and the crickets are chirping. They sing along with the merry silence of this oblivious world. It's hypnotizing, to watch as the city goes to sleep, first so slowly, and then all at once. the deserted streets long for the footsteps of its familiar pedestrians. The sky is growing darker now, a darker hue of navy blue, and the clouds are drifting slowly away. Oh, I see, the moon wants to play hide and seek today! On such a night did old Gatsby say, “So we drove on toward death in the cooling twilight”.


It’s tragic, to think of all things we should see when we are awake, but miss because we are asleep. And as I say this, the aurora from the east door begins to stir.

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