Scintilla

He loved Mathematics. He had been counting the heartbeats that tormented him. He had once been counting the Fallen Trees in the landscape of his untraceable Memory. Memory... Ah... Where there is life, there is memory- and both of them were undeniable and passionate options for him. He had chosen the former, and the latter was a curse that followed. Life had been an option, and he was passionate about it. The curses surrounded him, questioned and answered his Identity. He stopped wandering, and the angels feared that one day he might reach Home. His turbulent peace was so well practiced that even the Storms thought for a moment before entering his skull. But when they formed... they left inclement memories, yet again. Like a Flashback visited too well. And remembered, too. On this particular night he walked counting. The tumultuous rain tried hard to make him blink. There was an ink of Prussian Blue in the night, and he smiled. It was going to be one of those nights, again, he thought to himself. Premises were so easily available. He kept walking for a couple of heartbeats, till he finally looked up. It’s like one of those moments where you safely presume everything to be routine, and all the faculties in your mind's department of Logic, stand to quorum, but that one blink of a misnomer sense makes you disheveled. And since he was a sesquipedalian delight, he knew better. So he looked up without stopping. The rain was straight tonight- unlike other nights. The storm was calm, unlike other sights. The Night sky had changed, too- as if it was trying hard to erase a spot in his memory. It stood right above his head, calculating, with shades of the darkest green it had ever manufactured, and the most opaque velvet it had ever smoked. He looked up. The rain hit so hard on his eyes, that after a split second he felt his eye balls floating in the rain water that had accumulated in his eye-sockets. The hurt in his eyes did not prepare him for the blindsight that was about to hit him in a split second's time.
*
The silver rain danced with her. As if it did not succeed in driving her back home. Creatures like her had always been a liability - frolicking on the Earth, the Sky and everywhere in between. They weren't even faithfully straying. She danced, then, knowing fully well the nuisance of her existence and the essence of her being. The black satin had rushed to her, to save itself from being dry. She had laughed, and it wrapped around her in a hurry. From the distance where he watched her, he was not sure where the blackness of her body came from... She was naked except for the Night. The Night always played tricks on his mind. And now he looked at the woman with a curse and a chuckle- his logic told him he was safe. But still he stood there, telling himself, reassuring himself that there could be no substitute or imitation. He looked at her, unfazed for the moment, in a captious manner. The wet, dark green leaves kissed his feet, his cheeks and his arms. It was that touch that initiated the Music. He could now hear his heartbeat increased by a thousand-fold intensity. The definition of infinity as provided by Mathematics did not impress psychology, after all. His heartbeat became the Thunder. He slowly noticed the symmetry of the woman's feet and the flashes of lightening let him a glimpse of her soul. If one could see Trance in a perfect symphony of asymmetry- it was him. His eye lids became heavy, his eye balls floated with the ecstasy dissolving in. He felt his heartbeat struggling to make a beat, out of the sound. He felt his feet fastened to the Earth. He felt the Storm trying to touch his soul. His layers were stripped, one by one... Until nothing remained except for his Soul. He was breathing the Sky. The lightening summoned him to the silvering crimson that flowed incessantly from her eyes, and that which led him into the Space and the Sphere of a captivating Freedom. His logic embraced madness and he felt his soul trapped in that moment. He could go back and rewind the entire chain of dews, and yet he could not break the Freedom. The Madness of her movements, the wetness of the moment invited him to a Universe - they had both seen each other then. He wanted to take his eyes off from that realm, to sit back and see her and himself caught in that forbidden moment and yet, he would not do so. He simply would not leave. The woman danced, holding his soul, challenging him to look elsewhere, to transcend in a light that always won over darkness. The Night challenged him to come undone, to lay still in that whirlwind of wonder, to dip into the Black, into the Silver. The Crimsoned lightening in her eyes teased him to put everything at stake. The Insanity lay beckoning. The paroxysm took his death.