Orange Flowers and Dark Skies

My mother always wanted the best for me.
She believed so strongly that good things would come, if she believed strong enough.
She wanted me to have this belief, this comfort, and this hope.
She taught me to believe in a incomprehensible light. An invisible light, but one that was supposed to guide me nonetheless.
I found the idea of the light to be perplexing, overwhelming. I never understood how this light that I could not even begin to fathom could provide to me guidance, let alone comfort.

I have become who I am today by simply living. I breathe the air around me. I wake up in the morning, I go to sleep at night. I have seen the world through a comparatively typical scope. I have experienced pain, and compassion,and jealousy. I have experienced happiness, although it cannot be defined. I have experienced hope, although I do not believe in any sort of light.

I believe in orange flowers and dark skies.

This much is true:

Dark skies are inevitable. The sun will always rise in the west, set in the east, its hiding imminent until morning--leaving the world in a darkness, both predictable and mysterious. Night will always come. But the darkness that will inevitably follow is not synonymous to nights preceding. Some darkness is brighter, some invoking, some consuming...

Orange flowers are not inevitable. In a vast and timeless meadow, sprawled with arrays of vivid and diverse pigments of varying shapes and sizes, there is no guarantee that red and yellow will converge into a single plant among the many. There is no guarantee of one’s ability to distinguish the idiosyncrasy of the orange flower in a place where floral visions of every possible shade stream into the eyes of the beholder, bewildering, yet overwhelming and distracting the one who seeks it.

Life is inevitable. Death will inevitably follow. Every living organism will breathe, and-- eventually and inevitably--  breathe until it cannot.
Fire is not proven to live; it is proven to breathe, and it is proven to die. It will burn and illuminate its surroundings. Fire will always burn. But the fire is not synonymous to fires preceding. A fire may burn bright, if you let it. A fire will burn out, if you make it so.

Living is not inevitable. One may survive, one may wake up everyday and sleep at night, and never find satisfaction in the hands they hold, the comforting smell of rainfall, the feeling of sunlight on a day where the wind is breezy and biting, the peculiarity of orange flowers.

Dark skies are inevitable. To be consumed by the darkness is not inevitable. Orange flowers will still remain in the meadow at night. It is not those who search for the orange flowers that will be liberated from the darkness; it is those who recognize its beauty and existence, whether it discernible, or discrete. It is those who will possess the ability to believe in orange flowers and dark skies.






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