He sits there, silently, steadfastly, all by himself on the very top of the large gigantic boulder. Perched atop of his high throne, he gazes down below him upon the bustling little suburb. The occasional car that goes by. The random shout from a child playing in the streets. A small influx of activity at the basketball courts. Everyone down there attending to his or her own activities.

His being here, so high above the scene, taking in what’s before him as he weathers and endures the blistering wind that blows and chills him to the care, is somewhat strange. Why would any person in their right mind decide to make the tortuous climb up into the woods, scale the side of the mountain, and then sit atop a large unstable boulder that could threaten to fall and roll down the sides at a moment’s notice?

The weather continues to buffet him as best as it can. It is relentless, refusing to die down to give him a modicum of peace to allow him to collect his thoughts. The cold continues to poke and prod at his hands, his feet, his face, reminding him that he is truly not alone. He acknowledges this pain merely by dipping his head lower and trying to cover his feet with his hands, thereby reducing the surface area of exposure to the elements. His reason for coming up here has yet to be accomplished.

Away from the world, away from the people that trouble, annoy, and hassle him, he finally has some time alone to spend with his convoluted thoughts. Especially since he has been feeling a trifle misanthropic lately, he has desired, for a long time now, to get away from it all. Just the slightest action against him had recently begun to push him over the limit and explode into a gargantuan mess of anger and hate that would have threatened to scorch any person within a close enough radius to his uncontrollable release.

Still silent to himself, not really showing much more motion to give into the test of the elements, he continues to embrace that which is embracing him, taking him into the innermost folds of the dreariest depths of nature. With the sun slowly beginning to rise from behind him, bringing some light to a few darks corners, he realizes now that time is not exactly unlimited. The days and nights come and go, and he is no exception to this rule. As his shadow creeps upon the area in front of him, getting larger and covering more and more space as the sun moves into position up in the morning sky, he accepts that it is time to return to the world, to squeeze in and conform to the idiotic norms of society which seem so trivial and useless to him.

One day, eventually, he will cast a long and dark shadow over many things, and when that day comes, he will have finally reached a level of contentment with himself and with many other things that always seem to bite at him and bring him trouble to no end. One day, all will be well within the world and maybe he will no longer have to call the cold bitterest winds his closest friend. Perhaps, just maybe, there will be a day when he will seek to jump into the folds of society and cast off the icy nature of his and become one with the warmth and glow that mingling with others has to offer.

But until that day comes, he will continue to live in and out of his solid hard composed demeanor which repels all who try to draw near to him. And that day will be when the sun no longer rises in the morning.

03.11.09, 1.31 – 1.51am