my mind wanders... on a thought of a green sunset

Thursday, October 27, 2005

The Sunsets

NOTE: Pasensya na... Baka kasi walang kwenta yung story ko. Naka-droga ata ako nung sinulat ko yan.

The Sunsets

A little boy wandered into a gallery full of paintings. Near each painting were the artists, dutifully waiting to explain their masterpieces to those who want to see true art. As the boy strolled around, he saw the people awed by a beautiful painting of sunsets arranged in grids. As the artist entertained the astonished lookers, the little man gazed on the painting. When the crowd moved on another painting, the kid moved towards the painter. The painter smiled gently.
“Hello there,” he said mildly, his voice warm and friendly. He beamed on the little guy and sat down so that he can see the boy face to face.
“Hello sir,” the little boy replied courteously, his eyes rolling from the painting to the man’s face. “Your painting sir, it’s nice,” he added.
“Thank you,” the painter said gratefully. “I really appreciate your thoughts for my work.” The painter stared into the painting, his eyes gleaming. He blinked, arranged his thoughts and faced the boy again.
“Sir,” the little boy asked slowly, “what are your thoughts on sunsets?” The little boy innocently watched as the painter raised his eyebrows and reflected on the matter.
“Sunsets?” The painter stood up and strode to the painting. He looked on the different suns, their hues of bright yellows and oranges pressing against the graying sky. He breathed heavily, but his face was still calm.
The sunsets in the grid were definably different from each other. Some were deep orange, some are tinted with dusty yellow, some are red and some are pink. Even the skies are different.
“Sunsets?” he repeated, his voice was trembling but strong. “I feel eerie, I guess,” he muttered. “Sunsets are memories of my happiness. I see through them. I look at the falling day as a beginning yet an end. Then I shiver, thinking about some things that are unclear.”
The boy seemed to understand, his smile faded a little. “Are you feeling sad when you watch sunsets?”
The painter did not reply. He pondered again, his eyes drifting to the painting, his mind wavering away. The shades of paint flickered alongside his gaze. The boy is mocking me, he thought, but he arranged his contemplation into a better right. He turned back his attention to the choice he had: tell the truth behind the painting, or powder his words and reply as if it was perfect.
He dare confessed. But the little man interrupted the painter’s words even before the he can speak.
“Sunsets are sad. It is like ending a bright light,” the kid said, his thoughtful expression apparent. “The darkness scares me,” he added.
“It is a bit terrifying.”
“It is,” the boy remarked grimly. “However, a splint of light in the shadow of night is enough to regain my courage.”
“Splint?” the painter inquired. Then the thought came into him.
Stars.
“And not just one splint,” the kid added, smiling slowly, “there are a few more.”
“These splints sure make the night dazzling.”
“Very true sir,” the child agreed. “They’re like everlasting matches. But we forgot the candle.”
The painter grinned. The candle, yes, we did forget the candle. “This candle,” the painter noted, “is very mysterious. Its glow slowly fades, but its flickers back, until its silvery shimmer is whole.”
“It is mysterious,” the boy repeated. “It also makes us remember why sunsets seem like the end, yet also a beginning.” The boy’s eyes glittered, and continued. “Something will come along. It wakes you up too. It will be your start.”

my mind fleeted at :10:01 pm ;