The Twin Souls of the Sky
Just like a white-winged dove, she was a symbol of a tranquil kind of grace. She had no feathers but her own wings of glimmering silk. Talons were replaced with arched toes. The details were all but arbitrary; the effect was the same. She achieved a level of elegance no one had ever seen. The air itself held her as if in awe, with the light fingertips of one afraid she might shatter. It was a delicate touch while she flew, spinning, tumbling, arching through the swings. Up here, gravity could not touch her, and here it was her defiance. She was no slave to pull of the earth. Beholden to nothing, she rose higher and higher, circling.
Just like a white-winged dove, she was a symbol of a tranquil kind of grace. She had no feathers but her own wings of glimmering silk. Talons were replaced with arched toes. The details were all but arbitrary; the effect was the same. She achieved a level of elegance no one had ever seen. The air itself held her as if in awe, with the light fingertips of one afraid she might shatter. It was a delicate touch while she flew, spinning, tumbling, arching through the swings. Up here, gravity could not touch her, and here it was her defiance. She was no slave to pull of the earth. Beholden to nothing, she rose higher and higher, circling.
But she could not find the sky. The northern star called to her, but the cries of the crowd drowned out its summons. The soft color of the night sky was burned away by the brazen torches. The canvas top was a glass ceiling. Her wings failed her, only once, in this aspect. The circus tent that had become her home was a cage she hadn’t meant to wander in to. These people were gawkers at a zoo. She had been bought for the night. When it was over, they went home. She did not.
The stripes of the tent looked more like bars with every passing day. Tonight, like every night, her feet touched the dirt and the chains of gravity clicked into place. Her wings were pinned to her back, trapped and useless. But in each step she took was an ache for the wind, the rustle of the trees, the feel of the rain on her face, the blue of the sky. The cheers of the crowd fell on deaf ears, her focus was snagged by something else. A brush of wind bore a path beyond, tugging back the flap of the tent. Exposing a new possibility, a new life in this old world. An invitation and a promise.
The stripes of the tent looked more like bars with every passing day. Tonight, like every night, her feet touched the dirt and the chains of gravity clicked into place. Her wings were pinned to her back, trapped and useless. But in each step she took was an ache for the wind, the rustle of the trees, the feel of the rain on her face, the blue of the sky. The cheers of the crowd fell on deaf ears, her focus was snagged by something else. A brush of wind bore a path beyond, tugging back the flap of the tent. Exposing a new possibility, a new life in this old world. An invitation and a promise.
She would fly with the moon, who took her not as an amusement, but as a companion. More than that. They would not simply be friends, but a pair of twin souls, at home in the sky. She would climb and swing, up and up, to brush her fingers against its cratered surface.
The greedy eyes of the crowd devoured her as she bowed with a plastic smile until anew spectacle began and their attention was once again captured by the glamour. Despite the brilliance with which she shone, she went unnoticed as she slipped into the night, who hid her just this once, if only because it had a soft spot for the lost things of the world. Despite her feet on the ground, her heart was soaring. She had found her true place. She was going home.
Beautifully written!
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