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I close my eyes, and see a radiant swirl of colors.
They bombard my open senses, until I can even hear the difference in the
colors. Their kaleidoscopic ballet
of light and emotion unfolds all around me, as if I were standing at center
stage. The play they put on is
astounding, and even though their message is in a different language, I
understand it perfectly.
They are telling me the story of a boy, a lost young child, amidst the
dangers and pains of the “real” world.
He does not understand what has, is, and will happen to him, and that
makes him feel small, and not in control.
So outwardly, as the painful things occur all around him, he puts on the
usual facade. The one that makes
people think the wearer does know what is going on, that they are in control.
He puts on the brave face of a modern-day warrior, to hide the fears and
inhibitions that plague him.
The colors, they tell his story, and they tell it well.
Of course, it helps that I know the boy.
Oh yes, I know him well. Of course, it’s hard not to recognize one’s own life story.
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