Skip to main content

Scout on Blinding Lights

       


     A deer with two strong antlers that lead before its eyes, seeing with distance and never close enough to touch with its own fur. Headstrong, chosen not from strength, but fear. What is soft enough to feel its true skin is not worthy of hatred, yet too close for friendship. It runs free from the challenges of wilderness, into roads, and through forest trails. When the night comes, it remembers the mellow colors of the night. The dark blues and gray sky rest the antlers from defense and the eyes take control. What can the antlers see of the beauty of the moon, it asks itself. Nothing, for the shine of the crescent over this world, can only be seen through the two eyes so little used. And as they look to the sky, the wonder of the day leaves from the comfort of the night’s beauty. Its hooves relax and it walks down the rough gravel roads, unaware of its placement in the world it must share.

The moon and the stars yell for it to admire them another day, in a different place. The moon yells the loudest, knowing he will not be the most beautiful in yet another creature’s heart. Loud grumbling nears the deer’s slow steps, and he turns to the sound of a halting screech. His eyes forget the gray shine that lit the sky so dimly, for the white of bliss meets him. The world is still, loud honking drowning in the embrace of the most encapsulating light to exist. Every sense had forgotten its purpose, but the stars knew their duty. As the moon turned in shame, they whispered into the deer’s ear.

“This light is beautiful now, but it controls. Does the moon halt you in your tracks, mocking the strength of your body’s choice? A soft beauty that is admirable is better than a strong one that is hypnotizing.”

The deer’s ego becomes bruised, and it walks off into the forest, wondering how it let an object control its movement. His antlers will forever lead after this day, but his eyes will not forget the bliss of the night. They will never lose hope that they will once again be showered in immediate bliss rather than constant mediocrity.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Scout on Maturity/Broken Glass

  On the other side of the glass, I see the perfect version of myself. She walks with a skip in her step, and nothing about herself keeps her up at night or down in the morning. Everyone she knows loves her, and she finds a way to love them back. She has everything, she is everything, and her confidence is unwavering. The days behind the glass are long because they’re spent clawing at myself until I bleed. Why can’t you feel like them, love them like them, be loved like them? I hate when my reflection is too clear, when those eyes look as if they’ve rejected the idea of happiness. The glass breaks. At the shift of my image, I get angry with myself. You, in all your light and life and experience, sit here digging holes through yourself because you don’t fit a perfect mold? You sit here hating the color of your skin, your eyes, your hair, your body, your face, when you have everything to be grateful for? The wall shatters onto me, destroying the person that I ruthlessly despised, a...

Scout on Cycles/Without Fail

      And so I return, back to the black and white letters and the soft clacking of the keyboard. I return after the rejection of my fragility, knowing now that the escape is temporary. How can I find meaning in this obscure trouble? How can I continue to be angry at the fleeting wind? When all is said in done, I sit in crowded rooms alone and listen to phones ring without an answer. I look around only to count how many people have run from me, mistreated me, and spit on my name. Shallow walls swallow me in whenever I walk, cloudy air consumes my sentences whenever I speak. That pit in my stomach doesn’t leave because it is my soul; broken, abused, self-pitying, and pathetic, but still my soul. It and I long for the day that it will be free to find its purpose. Today, I watched the breeze shuffle through the leaves, and I remembered the days when I would stare up at it and wonder if it was all the same. Every road had trees almost exactly alike, which I learned from...

Scout on Learning/The Sun

  I was looking for the sun. It was hot out, but I couldn't tell why. Yes, it was bright, but the sun was nowhere to be found. I looked in trees, in birds, and finally, I looked into you. You shone brighter than any other living creature and any crystal. You glittered brighter than gold. I was happy, I knew I was, at least for a little bit. Now, though, I can’t seem to ignore the darkness that creeps in at noon. The cold that seems to disprove your efficiency and the unreliability that refutes your existence. How can the sun disappear when I need its presence the most? How can the sun turn cold?   Tonight, I waited for you to leave so that I could ask the moon. Only, it was gone too because it depended on you. And my orbit shifted, and my planets got lost, but you still brightened up the next morning. This time, though, I doubted depending on you. I wondered why you had hidden from me when I needed you. I wondered why you provided heat and light without giving guidance. I do...