Saturday, January 14, 2012

Beauty for Breakfast

Today, God prepared a breakfast banquet for me in the sky.

Just before dawn, I was asleep in my bed when I was woken up. Kind of like the way you wake up in the morning to the smell of bacon being cooked in the kitchen. But for me, it was the faintest tinge of red appearing on the horizon that made me stir. I slinked out of bed and tip-toed up the creaky wooden stairs to the rooftop terrace of my hostel.

I settled in one of the hammocks, and started to eat.

The sky was a neverending summer trifle. The first layer was red jelly, like the red colour of childrens lollipops wrapped in squares of plastic, bright and a little transparent. On top of that was a pale tangerine mousse, perfectly smooth. Next, there was a shade of white with the faintest yellow tinge, like good quality whipped cream. On top of this summer trifle was the blue sky, like God had picked the most beautiful two colours of blue he knew; one light, one dark, and brushed them across the sky with one steady sweep his palm.

And the strange thing about all of these colours was that they were so distinct - one vivid colour would stop abruptly and the next one would begin. I felt like I could reach up to the sky and peel the blue from the white, the white from the orange, the orange from the red.

As I savoured this magnificent meal of a sunrise, the sky began to change.

The colours which were condensed at first started to spread vertically, as if someone had grabbed the sky with both hands and was slowly stretching upwards. The indigo retreated over my head behind me, and all the layers of colours lengthened and slowly followed the night. Then, as I watched, the low-lying clouds turned into an amazing, soft, purple colour, like God was churning taro gelato for dessert.

Last but not least, He added a final touch - He added the sun, which appeared between the two peaks of Sugarloaf mountain, splitting into the sky and glowing a deep, dark scarlet.

And at this point, as I sat on the roof, breathing in the cool January air of Rio de Janeiro, watching the living masterpiece that God made me for breakfast, I could not help but cry.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

This is beautiful.