Where Rainbows End
Just pray. Everythings going to be alright.
I look at the children, flying down the slides, laughing derisively in their joy. At the end of the slide they pout before they are carried back to the top and the bells of their pleased shrieks ring again.
I look at the rainbow I had climbed and fallen from. All my life I climbed laboriously up those seven colours; I worked my way up to the top.
For a short-lived time the rain stopped and the rainbow shone through: I was at the top of the world, looking down at the world and laughing. It could never end.
But it did, and soon I was falling quickly, surely, dangerously; not believing what was happening, not daring to- the shrieks came from fright and not pleasure.
The ride up had been tough. Occasionally there had been clouds that had to be darted, mists that misled, and little helping stones to pull me up.
Bleeding in my memory, a stark contrast to my earlier joy, was the ride down, the roller coaster where there were no safety belts an