Chris_Sconill's profile

I saw a rainbow today, for the first time in recent memory. Not just a fragment, or a disjointed piece, but the whole thing, the complete resplendent arc. Of course it was perfectly shy, moving imperceptively away, and as the car pushed onward, determined to catch up with the multi-hued celestial archway, the rainbow found a way to subtly stay just beyond our reach. It's a mystery I suppose, why rainbows are so timid. Maybe they just don't want people to find out what lies at the end of a rai...

The fragrance of honeysuckles impregnates the air, a delicate, savory messenger spreading the news of Spring's imminent arrival. Not even the damp breeze, a lingering testament of earlier showers, can drown out the faint permeating essence. Yet with that soothing aroma comes the realization that this scent will pass much too quickly and much too quietly, slipping away unbidden, as pleasurable experiences so often do. Temperamental clouds hang loosely overhead. They part just long enough to al...

Yesterday ended, merely another day, yet the morning found change. Chiseled brown eyes remained the same, though the view seemed more dynamic. The world peeled back, revealing a strange tint. Is this hue the color of truth, the final appearance of revelation signaling the end of a battle? Or has it always been this color, and eyes simply chose to be distorted by perceptions and personal lies? Or maybe there is no truth but perception. No, there exists concrete, firm statutes which govern the ...

I feel dirty, unclean, a shallow husk of degradated mortality. Part of me wants to peel away layers of flesh in the name of cleansing. However I cannot help but think this corruption goes beyond levels of epidermis. In fact I know it does, not in the type of knowledge which professes 2+2=4, but a deeper more portentous knowledge which exists beyond personal experience. A pertinent question might be: Why do I feel this way? For that I have no clear answer. To my knowledge I have performed no o...

An unrolled tapestry descends, granting rest to those burdened by the rigors of Apollos celestial chariot. As dusk shakes the final effulgent rays from the westernmost refuge of a once cerulean sky, the wind holds its breath in reverence, of both the coming and the passing. The world itself pauses, ardently observing this cyclic changing of the guard. Moments eclipse unnoticed by Nature, who counts no time. For time is all she possesses, yet not in fabricated hours and seconds. Her time flows...