Here/There

Here; crying. Not the wails of mourners at a loved one's funeral, but the cries of a newborn baby, waking to its first sunrise. The tears of joy at a wedding; the tears of relief when given the cancer all clear. Emotions that come so unexpectedly; emotions that enchant everyone around them. Life is full of angels; happiness and hope stroll hand in hand through the streets, lingering in the friendly smiles of strangers and the free doughnuts on the counter in the corner shop. No-one complains - no-one wants to.
       Changing seasons: from pure white to fresh green; from bright golden to fiery orange, then finally back to the sparkling frosts of winter. Snowflakes fall, gently at first, then harder, whirling in the soft breeze, carving intricate patterns in midair. The smell of rain is intoxicating, blending with the scent of freshly cut grass, exhilarating the senses; followed by blooming blossoms on the apple trees and families out blackberry picking down worn country paths, chuckling as they bask in the warm, late Autumn sunshine.
       From the first blush of daybreak, there's not a dark cloud to be seen; in this world, there are only perfect little puffs of white floating around the vast expanse of cobalt heavens. It’s warm, but not overwhelmingly so; swallows swoop and soar overhead, calling to each other in a language that only they understand.
       Here, no-one knows what's next in life, but no-one minds, because how can anything hurt you in our perfect world?

There; crying. Not the cries of a newborn baby waking to its first sunrise, but the wails of mourners at a loved one's funeral. The whimpering of a child listening to their parents’ arguing; the frustration of one who can’t save their beloved. Emotions that seem so commonplace on that planet; emotions that no-one is immune to. Life is full of monsters; distress and despair chase each other down streets, ripping through breakups and arguments, leaving behind tiny pieces of sorrow so tightly woven into the everyday routine that no-one notices them. No-one complains, and no-one’s there to listen anyway.
       A monotonous life; the only colour rude graffiti scrawled on the sides of bridges and nondescript buildings, lost somewhere in the maze of slate-grey city upon slate-grey city. Dreams that never came true; relationships that fell apart so brutally; obscenities and secrets left for anyone to see, that prompt an onslaught of muttering and head shaking by parents and grandparents alike. People automatically blame the youngsters - the teenagers who think they own the universe - never stopping to consider the real emotions hidden behind the illustrations.
       In that world, the sky is full of smog from the factories; not a streak of blue can be seen above the concrete jungles and shanty towns. The heat is stifling or the chill is biting; there is no in between - no comforting warmth. Down south is full of drought. Up north; floods. Storms and hurricanes; tornadoes, tsunamis and earthquakes tear that world to shreds, and no-one has the strength to repair it, so draining is that world.
       There, no-one knows what's next in life, and everyone goes to bed dreading the moment they are hauled out of the dream world where they can pretend it's all okay.

Our world is beautiful - a far cry from the horrors of that place they call Earth.