Mansion or Mausoleum?

in ,

Sauntered around the neighbourhood and basked in the gentle moonlight.

The night breezes caressed lovingly, invitingly. Time stretched. The serene joy felt as though it would last forever.

Took off my slippers and began walking barefooted once again. Not wearing footwear is becoming a little symbol of rebellion against conformity, against fitting into the image that people cast on me. It felt liberating, to throw caution into the wind, tossing all woes and worries away, even for just a while.

Was floating along calmly, luxuriating within a peaceful inner harmony.

Suddenly, was struck by a thought that the neighbourhood felt eerily silent and unnaturally dark. Come to think of it, the neighbourhood did not change; I had. My perspectives had changed.

The darkness had never brought a clearer vision; the silence never seemed more poignant.

Could sense the dreadful loneliness emanating from those terraces, those semi-detached, those bungalows, those mansions. It felt awful, the gloomy air that shrouded these glamourous estates. So large, so opulent, so imposing and... so painfully empty.

The night air stilled and felt incredibly thick, suffocating even.

Have we forgotten what that is truly important as we pursue what we think is important?

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