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Chasing the Lights
The world always seems warmer through closed eyes. All surroundings sheltered behind the filter of your eye lids. You're warned your whole life not to stare at the sun, but even with your eyes closed the sun's warm glow illuminates the world around you. The thin veil draped over your eyes goes from bleak and dark to a radiant shade of orange. It brings with it a calm that just washes over you. Takes you to that ever-mythical happy place. It's my escape.
Standing in this rundown factory working, working my nine to five, I long for that escape. My mediocre salary doesn't allow for extravagant expeditions, but my imagination is an all-expenses paid vacation to wherever my heart desires. Even with my grim surroundings I am able to find solace. Not in the putrid smell of plastic seeping into my every pore or the roaring, twenty-ton machines, around me. But in the lights hanging over head.
There was no sun to bathe the lids of my dreamful eyes. Only a few of its rays peering over the machines. Just enough to reveal the dust overhead beneath the dim lights dangling from the ceiling above. Doing their best to bring light to a place of such darkness. But they were my solace.
With my eyes closed I lifted my head to those lights and drifted away. They were my own makeshift sun. Basking in their yellow glow, the steady stream of dust below them became a sort of fog that served as a transition between my place of nightmares and one of daydreams.
They say when people die, they see a bright light. It seems like ever since you did, I've been chasing them. Those that have left us may live on in our hearts, but for me you live on in the lights.
