Posted in city life, traffic lights

For the Jewels at My feet…

They glisten into glory the moment the great luminescence of the Sun has bid adieu. There’s a spectacular joy in watching them twinkle as they battle the heavy curtain of darkness that engulfs their entirety. Lone warriors fighting a battle that is not to be fought but only to be lived through in transience.. 

Like a growing mob, they swell in numbers as the night ages gracefully. Some do not even need the prompt of the fading twilight to join in the swarm. They’re there, alone and silent as they wait for the rest of their army to join in the battle- the first ones to come and the last ones to leave- like alcoholics during happy hour. As the heavens above transition from a clementine orange to a murky purple, like beacons of bedtime, they appear in the distance as if smiling happily at the end of another long day. They watch as the last of the flocks return to their abode- aerial and terrestrial- as they attempt to make the best of the fading daylight. Tufts of grey clouds sail past into the distant horizon in mute agreement to the commands of established geography. 

Then there’s me- perched up high enough to watch the tranquility of the landscape burst into a mayhem of myriad colours. True to this great nation and everything it stands for, there’s this quiet beauty in its diversity. It is indeed intriguing to watch the conversations that ensue in morse. There’s the frantic transitions of the traffic lights in a perfect solidarity along a single, long stretch of road – like soldiers rising up for battle at the command of their general. There’s the bleak dots of yellow that mark the townhouses that surround the massive clump of trees that form the park, that contrast strongly against the livid orange streetlights that stand tall and predictably apart. There’s also the river of liquid gold flowing along the curve of the freeway as the crowd journeys on- like a conveyor belt at an extrusion plant. As the visibility diminishes, the orchestra of white lights come into the fore one block at a time just like an audience wave at a soccer game. 

As the heavy sky charcoals into a blackened envelope around all that is, they twinkle in the distance like belligerent toddlers daring their mothers to punish them after throwing a fit all while demanding a soft serve ice cream. For the solitary souls longing for the comfort of humanity, they serve as a constant reminder of the chasm of chaos that dictates the very purpose of survival.

And in the midst of this glittery and transient paradise, a silent reign over a darkened landscape, is the certainty of another spectacular show, come seasons or snow… 


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