I walked down that sunkissed path , alone was I , amongst those towering boughs , that stood lofty and statuesque. Like stallworths were they.
I could hear them whisper , as the wind gushed past them , the sound of those rustling leaves , the whistling and sighing of the wind. It was sublime.
The birds, all in myrid hues , sat perched up high on the branches , chirping and singing in joy. The sweet melody of the sounds.
Farther down the path , the trees formed a canopy , as they branched out, in search of each other, and tangled , interlaced, raveled and ensnared, as if finding each other after an epoch of search.
The path that was once sunkissed was now enveloped in a shadow , dark, mysterious and sibylline.
And as the evening approched , the skies were filled with a crepuscular light. The skies turned from the colour of a lemon , xanthous and yellow , to the tinge of a tangerine and orange marmalade.
Followed by hints of blush and rose, the colour of a fuschia. Now crimson and florid , suddenly turning the sky ablaze , a flame ignited into a deep amber flaring in the sky.
And as the sun set farther , a deep hue of amaranthine , the colour of orchids and plums ,the colour of the royals, violacious , laschivious and euphemistic.
And as the evening ebbed away at it was now the witching hour, the skies turned a dark black studded with millions of silver stars. Nightfall came.
The clouds filled the sky and the fog enveloped me. The frosty haze in the gelid night. The skies burst. A cloudburst all of a sudden, catching me unawares. It was a tempest, a blitzkrig of furor and hysteria. Walking through the storm , it left me flagging and exhausted. I succumbed to the forces as i lay shattered and languished.
Although spent , i continued on into the break of the dawn , the aurora. Before me was the first blush of the morn. As the sun rose once again, aubade, shining and resplendent
Life is an Odyssy, sometimes a march and sometimes a stroll. And for some part , we ramble on gallavanting , wandering and wayfaring. For some part it is us exploring our actuality. As the circuit of our existance continues , it is a quest for self realisation.
For in the words of Shakespeare, ” the web of our life is a mingled yarn, good and ill together” .