Personal Sanctuary

Wearing my freshly wash/dried T-shirt as a second skin, thanks to the, just, dissipated rain, I sit down in the fresh blue grass. The moisture from the rain-beat earth soaks into my already water-drenched jeans, slightly expanding them, giving them more than an encompassing feel. A cool enigmatic aroma rises from the grass just as the rain stops. I stare momentarily at the small body of water sunken deep into the emerald hill, just before I carelessly fall back into the soft doughy ground. My head hits the soil unexpectedly hard. While I rub the pulsating lump of flesh in the back of my head, I look unattentively up at the sky. And it would seem that the dripping-grey void was busy; with its' clouds moving at an alarming rate. Not wanting to take my eyes off of it, I decided to close my eyes and try to feel that undeniable aura that hung in the crisp air. Soon after, my body began to quiver from the unnatural causes, like a distant energy radiating force. Hesitant, yet intrigued, I opened my eyes and there lay a sight that I will never forget: a fiery orange comet streaked across the dead-congested sky. It was brilliant and inspiring. This incident made the pond in my grandmother's village my personal sanctuary. I would go there whenever I needed some time for myself. I cannot wait to go back and see how much it has changed and hopefully catch a glimpse of that comet streaking across the sky, inspiring my once more.



Written by

Cyrus Pitts

(2003