Jungle

I wrote this, well I'm not sure when, just jotted it down one night:

He looked up.

Gold refracting through the most unreal greens. Shades of the color you’d never see in movies or paintings, shades you can’t even fully describe with these words. Bright lime, dark sage, imperfect splotches of Heaven’s pastel, blending together as he gazed at them, through them. Refraction from the dew, and the soft, hazy glow rising to the canopy. A quick shadow, the outline of wings on the trunks, trunks covered with cities of moss. Vines clinging and hugging their posts, little highways for ants and other things.

He felt it too.

The cold splash, expected but never prepared for, of each drop from the sunshower. Each breath, slowly quickening in the anticipation, thick in the humidity, sea level. The tingle from the rolling sweat beads, that itch when it mingles with the dirt on the back of his arm. Irises burning, but strong, they open in welcome anyway. Legs are numb, and all sense of direction is irrelevant, as long as the light stays, doesn’t matter how he’s standing.

He knows it will be over soon, in fact he’s almost excited for the end, so he can think back on what’s happening and understand it. The rain is heavy now, but he can’t feel the cold. All he feels is warmth and joy and hope. Great things are at work here, beyond his understanding or control, but he knows he must be part of them, he must wake up. The time for loneliness and sadness is ended, indecision and despair are dead and done.

He can hear the music growing, a slow and powerful crescendo. A smile creeps onto his face and he closes his eyes for a moment. The music is calling to him, and he knows he must wake up. The sound is in the rain, in the leaves, in the distant mountains. It flows along the thick air and rises all around him. His arms are raised high, open, his smile spans his face. He can feel the light all the brighter now, knows it is shining directly on him. The music is so great, it’s everywhere, even inside him now. He can do this.

He must wake up.

It’s all rumbling now, everything cascading together into the light. Doom is gone and Hope is here. He reaches out for it, and everything quakes as forces colossal and unimaginable roar and rush around him. He reaches out for this fair hope, his fingers touch it, his eyes are opening.

He wakes up.