Communities that had rushed under cover since the beginnings of the pitch darkness, returned to the visible spaces, ripe to bask in clear days. As I pick out individual stars on that tapestry, I catch my eye on a few, and look, here’s one. A fresh sparkle on the pavements followed a brief shower, everyone ready to go again.
that most profitable flashback
The uncoiled bodies there possessed by life, propelled by an enduring sunshine, although quite weak limitless in the way it reflected an underlying, steady presence – most probably the fruits of a longwinded hope. No one can ever replicate that surge of positive feelings in print, but most could delve into the memory bank to recall even a fraction of its impression. Particularly that most glowing one, noticeable by its brightness in the twinkling constellation of memories. Its eternal sunlight slicing through gloomy surrounds and providing the little motivation our hearts deserved.
Each time I need a chunk of grit I jump back in, adding gloss to that most profitable flashback. Sudden drum and bass blasts kick-started the endlessly rewarding annum, as though an entire city was awoken from its months-long slumber and jolted into brilliant, replenishing life in an instance. At that precise moment, the year stretched out as an opportune cavern, bulging with unformed but enriching festivities that would shine for decades. The huge star. That radiant epoch. But it was actually a supernova, the star collapsing into itself, in the blink of an eye.
© Copyright 2021 John Maher