[A few descriptive paragraphs that I had to write for a writing class.]
I envisioned the fiery gold clouds rippling and unfurling before me like the rushing Mississippi river. Then they died down and narrowed to a thin stream, glinting and flowing steadily. The scarce trees beside me were black silhouettes cloaked in dusky splendor, reaching their arms up to drink of golden water. The spacious clouds were outlined in a dusty blue that was painted over the rest of the sky. It was as if the black ground had been charred by flames and the smoke drifted as a cloudy veil. The sky burned on, and nothing would stop the fire until all was black and ashes.
I stood then and listened, and heard the ashes blow away. Softly, ever so softly, and the wind was in my ears. I imagined music, continuing easily and perfectly, but then fading as I strained to hear the end of the melody. But it vanished, and there was no noise. I breathed with effort; soundlessly and careful not to threaten end to the silence - the silence that played on my ears like a different sort of music, something without real sound, but you could still hear it somehow.
I could almost smell smoke in the air, faint but believable. And then the smell of summer came, heavy and hazy, like strong lavender in a garden on a humid July day.
And I could feel. I could feel the wind that cooled the world on my skin. Hair brushed my face, and my feet stood solidly on the dry, hard ground. I could feel no pain. The warm air entered my mouth and throat and lungs as I breathed in deeply. I felt so alive that dark, warm summer’s night. The golden flames that consumed the world had gone, but light would come again, brighter and stronger, but not as deep. The breeze would go on, and the song of silence would still all other noise again. Life continued.