Fiction: Marble Dreams

The something I remember the most is the sun.
It is most beautiful when we see his light through the reflections on the white marble walls, bouncing back and forth between them, a dance of light and life, and an ode to the dead who first saw how beautiful they could be. The thousands of sparrows and starlings pierced the diamond light, ignoring us simple creatures standing on the streets. What could we know? We couldn’t even feel the air rushing throw our feathers, the sun pointing us the direction on the next corner. We are mere stone statues for this enlightened beings. They know their way through life. We instead, battle with the little time we have to enjoy it, always finding excuses to be miserable. Happiness is a future thing. Always.

In the mind of this poor fear moved creatures. They feel strong through their sadness. They can endure the nine hells and be proud of it. I wish I was born a sparrow. Sure of my role in this world. Not even giving it a thought. Just spreading my wings and following the light.

Sometimes I wonder… If I hadn’t given my life to someone else, would I be freer?

The something I remember the most is the sun. Back then, I thought I needed to find a way to cross this long ocean that separated me from my future happiness. In the end, I realized I was already sailing through those times. I finally reached port, with the first step on the peer, I stopped hearing the cheering sounds of youth, of playful games, and songs of comfort became songs of the old world. That was the journey of my dreams, but my imagination had failed me. I left my place of eternal light with the promise of a brighter future. I left the light to find it. Such is youth, blindness, unknown hope for the unknown. It led me well until it didn’t led me at all. We all grow up to be cowards nowadays. Not by bad choices we made in the past, not by hope of something better in the future, simply because we stopped believing in the present. We all think we are special, happiness is within reach – “Just keep going!” – We think.

When we finally stop believing in such, we think we are wiser, we think life has taught us a lesson. Why are we so sad, then? Is that our final lesson? Sadness is the core for our survival? To find meaning. That’s what we give up from. It is not a conclusion, it is not a lesson learned. It is cowardice. It is selfishness. Our dreams. I will not say they are too big. I will say they are too illusional. Fabricated in the factory of lies that is our world. Why are they unattainable? They are small on their meaning and big on their proportion. We dream about ourselves, our conquests, of illusional victories over illusional foes. We forget to share our thoughts, our time, we forget to feel true happiness through the smile of others. Appreciation. The art of being thankful is a lost art. Not meaning by this that we should submit to others desires, but it doesn’t take greed to make someone to extend their hand to the next.

Yes, the sun, it made me stop and wonder. I now wonder if I will see it again.


Do you sometimes feel your life could have been different?
Comment bellow.

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5 Comments Add yours

  1. Great post 😄

    1. literaapoetry says:

      Thank you!

  2. Awesome post. I could have gone very far in my writing, published many books and enjoying the outcome if I followed my own career path other than following friends who were also following friends following friends. We all wanted to be doctors.

    1. literaapoetry says:

      Thank you! We don’t chose the moment on which we are ready to pursue something, maybe that time is now 🙂

  3. This strikes me as a nicely artful rendering of the troubled area many experience between logic and spirit, our two most dominant domains that have many conflicts and much promise.

    Very nice work.

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