kaav

Their smell subtly permeated the garden. It was an aroma of sweet vanilla that seemed slightly singed by a candle as though it was a perfumed envelope sealed with a lover’s confession then burnt before the words were ever read. However, on this night the flowers could only be appreciated for their gift of scent as the moonlight could not reach their petals and show their elegance. Moonlight wavered when the bleeding grey ink clouds drenched the moon’s radiance. Yet when she did emerge, a crimson ring encircled her face. Like a glowing cat’s eye she watched her prey, perched high above.

How foolish I feel for trying to capture it. Trying to capture a night that tried to be forgotten. It was on this night that I took my camera outside and pointed it toward the sky. Yet the moon played hiding games with me but I knew that I could not hide from her. Unable to capture both the moon’s glow and the flowers’ perfume, I returned inside.

Oh If only I could bottle the darkness. Coax it toward me and then plunge a stopper into the vial and label it; Liquid Shadow. Yet we cannot keep darkness forever as it dissolves into something intangible. If I was to dip my brush into the vial full of shadow, and then spread it, my canvas would become the night sky.

Perhaps to capture the light would prove to be easier. When it’s not looking I could slam a jar over it and tightly close the lid. When I return to my work I could flick it onto my night canvas and through the black sky would burn white stars like pearls in a deep ocean. But what if my work is not pleasing, what then? Then maybe I shall empty both my vial of Liquid Shadows and my jar of light into my throat, selfishly gulp them down and boast that I have devoured all darkness.

Perhaps trying to capture the moon, the scent and the feeling of longing is easier than suffocating darkness and holding light a prisoner.