The Top of the World

I've lived most my life on rooftops, watching the world beyond mine. Swirling hues of thoughts and emotion color the sky above me. I sit and gaze in delight at the splendid display of vibrant yellows playing with soft pinks, darting behind fluffy white clouds. I watch vivid blues and purples discuss politics and religion, their trains of thought circling and calculating one another. 1

I'm suddenly distracted by three rainbow bubbles floating nearby. They happily toddle across the expanse before me, bumping into each other and creating one colossal lively bubble. I reach out my hand, longing to touch its child-like beauty and innocence. Fingers stretch in anticipation, my hungry eyes reflecting off the gigantic bubble. As soon as my fingertips graze the wet surface, the bubble bursts into thousands of tiny bubbles. I giggle as they surround me, tickling my skin. I watch with regret as the cheerful bubbles fade into the west to play with a particular cream-colored cloud. Bubbles love to play with wispy clouds, you know.2

Out of the corner of my eye, an effervescent red emerges as a deeper cherry color follows in hot pursuit. They waltz and I longingly watch as the two reds match each other in perfect time, both deepening into crimson. Jealously washes over me. I feel it soaking through my clothes and cascading down my face, accompanying salty drops already wetting my cheeks.3

Black storm clouds hover above and lightning strikes nearby, but I won't leave this rooftop. There's nothing for me down below, where the world lives in shades of gray. I can't return. I won't go back. 4

In desperation, I yell over the storm, beckoning any help who can hear me. A stream of silver from the east pierces the darkness, twirling around darkening clouds boiling over in anger. The silver stream examines me for a moment, and then asks if I really wish to leave. With all my heart, I say yes. A bright light envelopes my vision and penetrates my very being. The blinding light slowly fades and I suddenly notice I'm unburdened by the restraints of rooftops. Looking over my shoulder, I see my wings of silver, strongly pumping me into the sky above the storm below. With a grin on my face, I excitedly fly to wherever the setting sun guides me. I'm free at last, and I won't be going back to what I used to be.5