Exhilarating Resplendency.

I lie awake; restless. Though my lids close, my eyes dash about, eager for even a glimpse of light through their twitching slits. I furrow my brow, and squeeze my sight shut. My entire body responds in tension: hands ball, and toes curl. I begin to shudder.

But peace comes suddenly; I release. Every muscle relaxes, and I have been shifted.
Refreshing. I inhale, drinking in and savouring the night air. It is sharp and crisp, and yet, more like swallowing a mouthful of ice-cold water on a warm summer's evening. The air wafts through my lungs, chilly and wintry; still, my heart remains ever warm - it even overflows - and ever so sweetly floods through my veins.

My fists alleviate. Lush, dewy grass softly caresses at my palms, brushing tenderly through my loosening fingers. It is a cool, and yet somehow, a pleasant touch, not unlike a mild drizzle that leaves one with treasures of fragile diamonds in their cupped hands.

Gently, my eyes unfold - and then, brilliance.
A deep blue-black blanket glimmering with speckles of white dawns on my vision. A crescent moon smiling down, and I - or we - lying down, simply admiring.

And all of a sudden, it is so much more like gazing into the eyes of a significant other.

I would like to share this with you. You don't have to be important to me... For I only long for such beauty to flow throughout my veins, and send chills running down every nerve in my body. To breathe in the fresh, crisp breeze of a chilly evening, and to feel the soft undergrowth tickle at my limbs...To experience a wonderous night as this, even with one whom I know not well at all...
It is truly a special moment, truly, and a moment to simply savour.

And even if it just for this time that I spend feeling like this, even but for a mere moment, that is all I ask. That is all I will need.

LOL, Sarah.

Fluffy.

I reaaaalllly want to watch Despicable Me!

Look at this!!: Agnes!

SOOO CUTE!!!

That's all I really wanted to say (:

LOL, Sarah.

In The Valley.

It is much like this; like flowers in a valley.

---
At the mouth of a valley, you know what you are about to face. Deep, dark secrets linger about the musty air, whispering quietly, harshly, against the damp, mossy walls. Just one step in, and the wind arouses- it is excited. A small breeze isn't a breeze at all- you are suddenly cold, and your entire body is on edge. That presence that so comfortingly followed you before, now feels almost absent, and you are left almost utterly alone. The sun that urged you on so warmly, so encouragingly, and so surely, has escaped from the eve of the valley, it is swept away with the wind. There is nothing that would bid you onwards, unless you knew, and absolutely trusted that beyond every valley, a hill resides, and will return you to the crisp air, and the warm embrace of the sun once again.

And you do know this. So onwards, you walk, into the damp, into the unknown. The path is rocky - if it was to say that there is any path at all. Stray roots from under deadened trees seem to want to strangle your footing, and often you stumble, but you do not fall, for you are still strong from the sun's provision. But the darkness drifts towards you, slowly, inevitably, and ebbs away at any remaining light that you so depend on. You squint your eyes. Soon enough, they'll adjust, mind you. They were made cunningly for such moments as this. Your hands are stretched as far as arm's length will allow, and you feel your way through, for as surely as the darkness has settled, your vision has faded. You waver around. Nothing is familiar. You grope, and shuffle about... the wind is like the cold belly of a snake slithering along your shoulders, sending shivers down your spine. You slow down, and stop. You know you cannot turn back. But what can you do when you cannot see beyond this lingering darkness? But your vision is adjusting, slowly, surely, and soon, you see something.

Ahead, a single flower resides. It seems to be illuminated by a tiny stream of light, and though it is clouded and murky from the polluted air that you must breathe, the blossom gleams like stars against the night sky as it stems from a black pit within the crevasse of the valley. It shines. And it reminds you once again, of that hill- that beautiful hill, sprouting in abundance with flora, and streams that run alongside green grass where you may be laid to rest, under the shade of a flourishing tree bearing bright, ripened fruit. That hill is abundance - and it is where you are going once you conquer the dangers, the fears, and the insecurities hidden deep in the heart of the valley.

And so, you can take another step. But be careful! For you must not take the flower with you. The flower cannot sustain you, for as soon as you uproot it from its habitat, surely, it will wither, and die. You perhaps should leave it there, and simply be reminded of the abundance of which the flower originated from. How can something so alive, so full of joy and prosperity, live in such a deathly valley? Surely, if this flower has been conditioned to bear the harshest that this valley has to offer, and yet is still cared for, and brims with such warmth and goodness, surely, you are cared for just as well, if not more, and can journey safely, soundly into the depths of the dark.

Memories of that flower- no, of your destination: that hill - must linger in your mind, but as you wade through the darkness, darkness eats away at all seeming joy. It seems to feed on you - as you resonate with joy, darkness growls, and and magnifies. If you had carried that flower with you, and had drawn your strength from its warmth, surely it has failed you now. Its life has waned, for it is no longer sustained, and can no longer sustain you. You can no longer hope in it, for what precious life it had, nestled within the crevasses and cracks of the valley, you have stolen from.

A feeble flower. You cannot rely on it. But bear in mind the reminders it holds: its life is so sufficiently provided for in the darkest of dark. It is a signature of blessing; a reminder of the place you journeyed from, and venture towards once again. And, just as the little thing gleamed in a tiny shed of light, surely, the sun has not faded. The valley may impair your vision, but it cannot destroy the sun it so desperately tries to hide from you.

And so you continue. But the darkness grows ever darker, and your vision wanes, and your strength fails, and you begin to lose heart. Don't lose heart! Look left! Look right! Find those flowers that are sprouting up among the darkness! Though they do not sustain you, they remind you that this valley cannot destroy even the most delicate of beings, and it will most unequivocally not be able to conjure up the strength to destroy you, for, though the sun may fade, and warmth may be deficit, though your body fails, and provisions are scarce, the one who calls you is faithful, and He will carry you through.

These blossoms; though there are not many, they are sufficient. They are like lamps that guide your path. Even in your darkest hour, a little lamp will shine through, not beyond your vision, and it will light your way.

The valley can no longer overcome you. It never could, for though the darkness seeps in, and steals away our warmth, it is not warmth that we rely on. And these flowers, though their warmth is temporary, and we cannot journey onwards with them in our grasp, they instill in us the hope that we have that cannot be taken away, for surely we will be delivered, just as these flowers spring from the darkest, murkiest habitats known to man, and we will reach the promised land, flowing with milk and honey. Land of abundance.

---
Indeed, it is so much like this. Our blessings, like flowers in our deepest turmoils. And though God's presence may seem distant, we do not lose heart, for as surely as the sun rises, He is faithful to us, and He will never leave us or forsake us.

And though we are blessed, we do not place our hope in these blessings, but on the one who provides them. For where God is, there life is also, like flowers...
Even in the deepest valleys.

PTL, Sarah.

At The Park.

It was such a lovely day to be out in the sun. Finally! After such a long, cold and dreary winter, Vera could see the shy sun peek out from behind the clouds, to sweep her into his warm embrace once again. She let the sun stroke her bare shoulders, and whisper softly, sweetly, into her ear, “winter has passed”. As Vera breathed in the fresh breeze, her chest elated. She wanted to sing! And how the birds near her had started to sing, too! Their voices danced along with the warm breeze; the wind like a fresh whiff of perfume that flooded one’s insides with absolute joy and euphoria. The birds twittered and hummed; she felt right at home, as if she were sitting in front of her piano, her glove-adorned hands splayed out to play along with their cheerful tune. Vera really did feel something inside her bosom move – like a song longing to overflow from within. “I shall hum along with the beautiful creatures as they sing to my piano,” she declared gleefully, as she swept her hands across her lap to the right, and fluttered her fingertips at the end, just as the birds let out a pretty trill with their flutey voices.

---

Today was the perfect day to spend in the park. She had walked by the park many times –but quite hurriedly, so she would not have to spend a further minute out in the daunting cold of winter. So little happened during those few moments, where she would glance at the barren land – only ever was there one or two little creatures brave enough to venture out into the frosty terrain... It was far too cold for Vera, and too mysterious in the almost deserted unknowns of the park. However, Vera felt adventurous today, with the warmth of the sun assuring her of his supervision and comfort. And so, she had ventured into the park, eager to discover whatever that splendid morning had in mind for her…

And then she saw him, sitting on a nearby bench, peeling an orange in that strange way that she would never forget. Vera almost laughed aloud at the sight! She could succinctly remember how he would claw at the fruit, his sharp nails quickly splintering into the skin to create some sort of decorated swirl. The orange was his canvas – he would doodle all over it, skilfully and precisely dissecting the firm outer layer and scooping out the zest and fibre to reveal the tender, unspoilt fruit within. Vera had told him off the last time, to put away such radical behaviour and just to peel the poor orange as everyone else did. But his wily face would stare back into her, with that all too familiar and all too broad grin. Vera could distinctly hear his words dance around her ears as he positively shouted, “I’m my own artist!” the ladies and gentlemen in the café around them softened their murmur to silent reproach. How he would just smile right back, and how mortified she had felt... Vera heaved a sigh. Then, as if he’d heard her, he whirled around to face her, his light face flickered so quickly into eagerness, just like a spark bursting into tongues of flame.

“Oh my, Vera!” he exclaimed, and leapt right up to greet her, taking her hand in his, “I surely didn’t expect to see you here! Having a lovely stroll in the park? Out enjoying the sun?”

“Ah, yes, the latter”, she replied, and he grinned back at her. “Would you like something to eat? An orange, maybe?” Vera declined politely, but as she tried to withdraw her hand, he clasped onto it with both of his. At that moment, a strange beast inside of her began to move. “Won’t you come and sit? Come, just for a little while!” He led her back to the bench, and she sat down alongside him – but his hands remained firmly clasped onto hers. Vera felt like her hand was hovering low over a small fire – intensely warm, but it did not burn her. Instead, its warmth seeped in through her glove, and flooded throughout her body. She felt like she had been out in the sun for a minute too long, though she had only been out for a little while.

“You see, you came at a very convenient time. I was just looking at these bright yellow bunches, just there. Can you see? They reminded me of you, and of that time when we wandered about Kew Gardens. You named for me every single flower there was… and yet, I still cannot recall this one! You know that I am quite hopeless at remembering things. See here, how I have even carved it into the skin of this fine produce…” Vera glanced towards a colourful bush just ahead them, where his inspiration lay. She leaned in a little towards the little flowers with a warm smile, and they all reached out, wanting to hold her, beaming back at her ever so brightly.

“Verbenas,” she breathed, and turned back towards him. “Mother used to have them in her garden, in a hanging basket, and whenever we went to water them, she would tell me that I was like her Verbena, beaming at her like sunshine…” Vera’s voice faded as she remembered the warmth of her mother’s embrace, and how she would never feel it again… She shivered slightly, but he did not notice. ”Oh, the tenderness of this fruit is magnificent!” He took a generous whiff from the deepest cut of the wounded fruit. “Vera, you really should try some. Its aroma is just wonderful.” He turned her hand ever so gently in his, and placed the orange in her palm. Vera felt a grimace from inside her chest creep towards the corners of her lips, but she pursed them quickly enough for him to not notice.

“No, no… it’s okay. I really do not want this.” She was almost pleading. Would he understand what she had meant?

“Ah right…” He said, taking back the orange, and letting her hand go. His eyes wandered from hers. “Oh! Look, Vera!” he said softly, but she could hear that restrained eagerness bursting from his lips. “The children!” Vera inhaled sharply, and the beast inside her began to whimper silently, but she followed his gaze towards the playground. Suddenly, a wave of jovial children, just as adventurous as she had been, swooped in towards the playground – two in particular, a sandy-coloured haired girl, and a boy whose head of curls were boundless and untamed, scampered across the dewy grass, directly towards the monkey bars.

“Don’t worry, we’re big enough now!” Vera heard a high-pitched voice sing out towards the girl. “But I’ve never been on them before!” A higher, prettier voice sang back, and Vera could almost hear a tremble of fear from within the little voice. “Don’t be a chicken, Lottie!” the boy shouted back, and so the little girl reached for the pole.

Vera watched the girl in silence, and suddenly warmth grasped at her hand once again. The strange beast inside her chest rumbled. Lottie swung once, twice… and the little tyke successfully grabbed a hold of the next bar. What an achievement! Vera felt something inside her leap in joy and relief. But as Lottie let go of the first bar to grab a hold of the next, she lost her grip, and fell onto the ground.

“Ow…” Lottie began to sob, and Vera felt a faint chill across the skin of her neck. Wasn’t it a little colder now than before? She was sure of it. She trembled slightly, but she did not move towards the crying girl.

“Oh Lottie! You weren’t meant to fall!” The little boy dashed towards Lottie’s side, and pulled out a bandaid. He dabbed at the graze on Lottie’s knee with a tissue from his pocket, and quickly covered the scratch with the bandaid. “See? All better now! Now c’mon, let’s go!” He grabbed her arm and helped Lottie back up, and they dashed away.

Vera could not get that image out of her sight. How quickly Lottie had moved on! Yet, she was sure that she heard Lottie stifle a sniff, and saw her wipe the tears from her face before running after the boy. How hard it was for her to keep up…

“Verbenas in your garden – indeed! They really are lovely little things!” Vera heard his voice break her from her trance, and his warmth left her hand. He had knelt by the flowers beneath their feet. “Your mother was right, you know. I do believe that you are much like these delightful blossoms. In any season, you resonate with such warmth and energy...” His calm face broke into a slight smile, and the strange beast began to pound at her heart. Vera gathered her hands at her bosom, and pressed hard against it.

“Yes… you must be the only one in the world of whom I know nothing can take away that fire inside of you.” He snapped off a cluster of verbena from the bush and twirled it between his fingers. Vera stood up.

“You’re going already? But you must stay a little while longer!” He held tightly both the bunch of flowers and the carved orange in his hands, and Vera pressed even harder at the strange beast’s beating at her heart. The orange’s juice began to drip from its incisions.

“I really must go. I’m sorry,” she gave him a smile that did not hold. At that moment, she was even sorry that she had entered the park at all…

“Surely I will see you again soon?” His voice sang of such hope, and yet, such dreamy vagueness. Vera could no longer stand it. “Perhaps… but perhaps not.”

---

The sun had drawn back behind the safety of the clouds, and the winds picked up, silencing all the flora and fauna from singing any more. Still, he did not hear her last words. He placed the bleeding orange on the bench, and he hovered his dripping hand over the bushy flora, where he had removed the cluster of verbena. He loosened his suffocating grip on the isolated plant; its vibrancy had already begun to fade.

---

Finally, the story I was talking about. I got an A+! YAY! My teachers loved it (: But.. I think they liked the reflective commentary more.. bummer x]

And thus begins the final sprint. A close other has my password for Facebook, and I vow to be absent from MSN for the coming days, until my focus can turn away from study. I dedicate this to You, God, for I know in You, I have the strength to carry on. Continue to shed Your light upon my path; may I see You in everything around me, and when everything overwhelms, I know that You are God.

Blogspot will be my hangout space (:

PTL, Sarah.