28 March 2008

Untitled Evening

Yesterday I was studying Maths when the French neighbour opened the gate and made me look up. As I turned my head around I saw one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen before. I went inside, grabbed my cardigan and my mouth-organ from my cubbyhole, slammed the Maths book shut once I was back outside and made my way down the steep hill onto the deserted beach.

The sky, striped with the last strands of pink cloud, was just beginning to darken, and the full moon stood high and silent over the grey-blue sea. The reflection of the moonlight was shimmering on the quietly rippling waters, and, without taking my eyes off the golden beauty I took my sandals off and sat down on the warm sand, very close to the water, hugging my knees tight.

The sky got darker and so did the sea, and the moon seemed to become brighter. The reflection on the water got shinier and I took my mouth-organ out and began to play quietly. I was alone on the beach, there was nothing to be seen except the regular flares from the lighthouse. I listened to myself, and my music sounded to me more nostalgic than usual. I was playing simple and beautiful melodies, songs that had survived hundreds of years and that now came to me, running through my head and my heart, down to my lips and through the tiny tubes of the instrument.

I looked at the twinkling stars shining on the water, and when they turned to furious fireflies I stopped playing. The sea was getting rough.

I don't know how much time I stayed there doing nothing, just watching and listening. The waves were much bigger, and I saw them tall and menacing, far away, where they raged furiously onwards, crashing dead on the sand when they got to the shore. I saw the white foam rising majestically on the crests, then being tossed around until it disappeared amidst all the dark green. And all this time, dazzling wild horses of moonlight were prancing over the waves, and it appeared that the whole immensity of the sea was on fire. Pitiless blinding flames shook around, licking all the water up in their fiery dance, and I watched motionless until they got to where I was...

I woke up, terrified. I had fallen asleep. The sea had calmed down, and thin streaks of pale moonlight were left as the only remnants of the wild horses and the fireflies of before. I looked at the moon, and I saw her peacefully glowing over me. For just a moment she shone almost as brightly as the sun; after a while, she went back to the usual solemn, serious silence, colouring the world with the silver poems of every night.


LSEP said...

Also written when I was sweet 14 or 15...

I could have posted a pretty picture, I suppose, but I think I'd rather have you build your own. I have mine. In fact, everything here is real, except my dream. I just had to write it down!

Well, I hope you like it.

Anonymous said...

Wow ---
The Jungle Uncle