Silver

It is quite an unreal feeling, to stand on my terrace under the moonlight. It is almost like I have forgotten what it is like to look up into a moonlit sky and see so many stars. The dark silhouette of the trees surround me and the leaves whisper in the cold breeze; almost like they are too cold to rustle and choose to whisper instead. It is magical. In the midst of the city, I feel like I am the only one standing, bathed in the moonlight, listening to the insects chirping, watching large bats go floating by in space and little ones flitting in and out of the trees. Perhaps I am the only one. It is almost like being in a forest at night; but for a few fireflies, I might be convinced. I am reminded so much of the poem 'Silver' by Walter De La Mare. Standing here reminds me of my childhood days, before the cities became too bright.

Perhaps nothing has changed. Perhaps I am still a child: I still know nothing; I still do not know what my future will bring; I still have no idea how to deal with pain - can do nothing to help myself, save wait for time to heal me. Even surrounded by so much beauty, I still feel an emptiness. Like something could be better; something is missing perhaps. Do people not always wish they had someone with whom to enjoy the beauty of the moon, rising from among the trees? Someone to hold and be held and feel warm in the cold breeze? Someone who perceives the beauty of the night exactly as you do? Pipe dream! I should know better now. I am alone. I feel lonely and cold.