Crowns & Crystals

Nothing but a dream..

Since our heated altercation yesterday, Kiaran and I have maintained a stoic silence. Yet, beneath the surface, an invisible thread of longing tugged at my heart. Despite my lingering anger, a part of me yearned for his presence, his familiar warmth.

Last night, Leya's somber voice crackled through the phone, delivering news of her absence from class. Her dog's deteriorating condition had cast a shadow over our already tumultuous day. With Leya's comforting presence withdrawn, the weight of solitude pressed upon me, threatening to suffocate.

Exiting my fourth class, I navigated the bustling corridors with a sense of purpose. My steps quickened as I left behind the clamor of students and ventured toward the sanctuary of the lecture hall. Ahead lay the promise of respite, albeit fleeting, in the tranquil embrace of the courtyard.

Passing through the wrought-iron gates, I entered a world veiled in serenity. The courtyard, a hidden oasis amidst the chaos of academia, beckoned with its allure. Lush greenery encircled me, their leaves whispering secrets of solace. In the center, a fountain gurgled softly, its crystal-clear waters shimmering under the midday sun.

Drawing in a deep breath, I allowed the fragrant bouquet of blossoms to envelop me. Jasmine vines twined delicately around trellises, their intoxicating scent mingling with the heady perfume of lavender. Peonies bloomed in riotous splendor, their velvety petals unfurling like delicate secrets.

A smile tugged at the corners of my lips as I settled onto a weathered bench, the wood cool beneath my fingertips. Here, amidst nature's embrace, I found solace in the symphony of silence. For a precious moment, the tumult of emotions ebbed away, replaced by a sense of peace that transcended words.

I made my way to my favorite bench under a big chestnut tree. These trees had stood there for several decades, if not centuries. They bring life and offer homes to so many, it's no wonder they are the pride and joy of the creator of this garden. I admired the way the flowers had taken root in the base of the tree, almost as if the tree was giving its life to provide for the flowers. A raven sat perched on the higher branches, fluffing its feathers before taking flight. I watched it until it disappeared from view.

The garden was peaceful, a small heaven in this hell.

I slipped the earphones into place, the familiar click signaling my retreat into a realm of melodies. With a deft touch, I summoned a playlist, its eclectic mix promising to carry me away on a journey of sound.

The first notes danced into existence, a symphony of rhythms and harmonies weaving a tapestry of emotion. As the music enveloped me, I felt its resonance echo deep within my soul, a comforting embrace amid chaos.

With a sense of purpose, I retrieved my sketchbook from the depths of my bag, its weathered cover a testament to the countless worlds it had helped me explore. Charcoal nestled in my grasp, a tool of creation waiting to be unleashed upon the blank canvas of possibility.

Lost in the cadence of the music, I surrendered myself to the dance of inspiration. Each stroke of charcoal became a brushstroke of emotion, a fleeting glimpse into the depths of my imagination. With every line and curve, I poured a piece of myself onto the page, a silent dialogue between artist and muse.

It started out as a feeling

Which then grew into a hope

Which then turned into a quiet thought

Which the turned into a quiet word

And then that word grew louder and louder

'Til was a battle cry

I'll come back

When you call me