Fly to the Sun
I dreamed the sun commanded the flowers of the world to take flight and the roses and lilies and irises and peonies and even the dandelions gathered their petals together and, with a great shudder, unfurled like the wings of newborn butterflies.
And then as one they gave a violent flutter, freeing themselves from their earthbound tether, and the righteous fanning of their wings caused the temples of man to topple and trees to tumble and mountains to tremble. Then the flowers of the world swirled into a living rainbow so magnificent I fell to my knees and I cried out loud, “My God! My God!” But my words could not be heard over the thunderous choir of thrashing wings.
Then I watched as the living rainbow flew off toward the sun and the sun—a brilliant flower if light—plucked itself from the stem of the earth, leaving it a dark and colorless ball of dust. And I became one of the flowerless stems that had been left behind and a crushing feeling of separation fell over me.
When I awoke from my slumber, the pillow on which I slept was wet with tears that had leaked down my cheeks. And I knew I never wanted to feel that terrible pain of separation again, nor to be left behind in a world so bleak of color and light. And I felt that maybe if I let the light of the sun shine on the dormant seed within, it would bloom into a beautiful flower, and, I too, could fly to the sun.
Terry Dawley is a retired police officer from Erie, Pennsylvania. His work has appeared in Pithead Chapel, The Cleveland Review, Mused BellaOline Literary Journal, Soft Cartel, The Five-Two, and Law Enforcement Today.
Photo by Khanh Le on Pexels.com