Touch the Sky Essays

CS Lewis stated, “Hardships often prepare ordinary people for an extraordinary destiny.” This directly correlates with the life of Lupe Fiasco, which he demonstrates in many, if not all of his song’s lyrics. “The Show Goes On” in particular discusses the hardships Fiasco underwent as a young child, yet he managed to persevere. Throughout this song Fiasco hints to events that occurred in his life, while encompassing generalizations so that his listeners are able to relate. Instead of disregarding

of a tomb while gazing up towards the sky. The tomb is made up of many large gray stones as the man steps out of the tomb there is sand and green plants and stems located on the right hand side of the tomb. As the man step over the step way there is a giant round stone which was used for a door to cover the opening behind the man. As the man is stepping out in the nightfall there is a bright shining light beaming on his face that appears to come from the sky. The lighting is directed only on the

Saint-Remy’s asylum. Others say it was painted by memory by a dream he supposedly had. Vincent tried to calm his anxiety by painting how his mental condition let him see things; big and with movement. "You can feel the stars and the infinity of the sky since life, in spite of everything, is like a dream." That’s the phrase Van Gogh used to describe his magnificent piece of art.

Una Scena in Primavera Against my glassy eyes is the reflection of a grand capitol, far too vast to be encompassed in the eyes of an individual. The sky, a jade ocean speckled with dots of white paint, served to frame each rooftop that reached beyond the densely forested mountains to touch it. I allowed the spring breeze to flow through my feathers as I circled. Oh, how I adored this city when I once walked it’s streets as a man. Even from afar, the amethyst statue of a woman clothed in a silken

The flames of desire can morph into an inferno of destruction. Drought fell upon Mason Row during the summer solstice, the small farming community greeted the sunshine with dreaded welcome; cattle and crop usually thrived beneath its brilliant rays, but this year. . . this year brought danger. A farmer mowing his parched lawn could set the world ablaze, a single firecracker could ravish an entire country side, these reason kept the town constable Eldred Tolhurst awake at night, and kept him on

same window that he constantly stood by. Fire? The sky was a dirty scarlet and reminded him of the broken wagon he used to ride in as a child. Not fire. There was no heat to be felt and no scent to be smelt that even resembled the presence of flames. Instead, the air was stained with the stench of acid. He associated the stinging fragrance with a sort of bitter, rotten apple but most importantly, he related it to pain. Quickly, a drop ran from the sky, racing to reach the windowsill where Hall’s hand

Imagine you are on the tropical island of San Juan, Puerto Rico, in the Caribbean. There is powdery soft golden sand where the warm jewel-colored ocean water meets the shoreline. As the waves come crashing in, you will find the seagulls taking off for flight. Off in the near distance the feathery palm trees sway in the wind, as if they are synched in motion to a song. The air is full of a fresh salty aroma and your skin feels sticky from the suns heat beaming down on you in all her glory. The warm

cut off from nearly all hints of human presence lies a small paradise deep within the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. Here, the cold mountain air has a cleansing quality; it calms the mind and washes away the dirt and grit of the city air. At night the skies are so clear that, even on a full moon, the stars come out to play. They illuminate the world beneath with their whimsical light, allowing the shadows of the ponderosa pines to dance along the ground, speckling their groves with deep shadows and bright

Necklace of Coin Dawn is lightening the sky through the treetops, and Somnus is trying his best to ignore it. His bedroll lays on the edge of the camp tucked in a small glade, closer to the bright greens of the birches’ summer leaves just picked out in the suggestion of light. The air is still crisp with the damp of dew. In the cool morning, the smoky hint of the campfire lingers on his tongue. Somnus shrinks a bit deeper in his bedroll. Scrunching his fingers in the fabric, he tries to focus on

Catherine, got their first. She nearly shrieked with excitement and grabbed for the turtle with her grubby little hands; for it was, indeed, another baby turtle. My aunt expertly blocked her daughter’s reach, waiting instead for my mother to get there to touch the

The Crow’s Descent I was on my way home, the gritty, dry dirt beneath my broken and battered knock-off ash grey Converse cracked and crumbled. It was fall, a cold, moistureless air perforated the warmth of my body and the area around me like little cold needles as my breath created small clouds of steam. Crisp, dry autumn leaves swirled around my feet as the breeze picked up on the dusty road I walked. Earless cornfields were at my sides. Grey and barren was the frosted soil where many ears of corn

barking, and the guttural growl of car exhausts as motorists drove past his house on their way to goodness knows where. But nothing could prepare him for nighttime in the countryside. It was as if someone had draped a pitch-black curtain across the sky, cloaking the night in silence and engulfing him in anonymity, allowing him to be whoever he wanted to be. A hero, an adventurer, or both. Fully alert, he listened, but the only sound came from the muted ticking of the grandfather clock. Tock... tock

Walking down the sidewalk until you glimpse the shining sun hit the white sand and crystal waters, the waves crashing down. The sun is slowly going down, the horizon is bright red with the reflection going across the entire ocean it seems. Sinking your feet into the warm sand, the feeling of relaxation rush throughout your body. The seagulls flying overhead feeling the water drop of their bright white feathers as they fly above. The closer you get to the water you realize it is clear as a crystal

Imagine the sight of an open blue sky, trees growing, and warm dry grass moving briskly by the air. And, in front of this scene, there is a wonderful endless pit, stained by blood and some partial limbs. The whole world has just decided to jump off a cliff, because why not escape the dark gripping fears that life holds? Society has darred and pushed each other off to this dark encasing hole. Sure it will hurt, but only for a little bit, right? Then it can all be over, done, and finished. But, common

“What a great day for a boat ride,” I thought to myself. It is a cozy warm, shorts and short sleeve shirt day at the time that people are arriving onto the big bulky catamaran. The sky is light blue with some dainty see-through clouds and a slight warm western breeze. I am located on one of the tropical islands of Hawaii, Kauai. The glossy white surface of the boat is blinding because of the reflection from the early evening sun. Teeth showing grins from children, parents, and grandparents appear

In the novel Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe, Okonkwo was a wealthy farmer and had two barns full of yams, he was already a great man for his age. Unoka, his father, had died ten years ago, was lazy and improvident and was in alot of debt and was a failure. Nwoye, Okonkwo’s first son, was twelve years old and was lazy, he starting to be like his grandfather. Okonkwo’s biggest flaw is the fear of becoming like his father and to becoming unsuccessful and less of a man. In chapter four, the whole

Kurt Vonnegut's Harrison Bergeron is a short story published in 1961 that I would describe as having the theme of futuristic-science-fiction. The short is set in the year 2081 where in the United States new amendments to the constitution has equalized all humans. Although, the author does not mention how this dystopia came to be and if the rest of the world has equalized all human beings, it is clear to me that in this dystopia, equality is an illusion, equality is not real. As I read this short

I am drawn by Aristotle’s saying everyone is born with a clean slate. It’s only over the period influenced by factors of inborn genetic coding, environment and upbringing molds the person to be. The physiological stages of development in our life process are the same across, while it’s the psychological factor that makes a difference in a person’s development. I have had the opportunity of travelling to several countries and have met families from different race and culture. I am fascinated to observe

Tone: The tone of this poem seems to be a person who enjoyed listening to the sound of the calm sea at night. As he is standing by the window , he is seeing the tide getting fuller by the moment. The fact that he mentions the moon out at night makes the scenery even more beautiful. He says, listen ! hear the grating roar of pebbles( colorful rocks)which the waves draw back, and throw. The sound of the seas returns, up the high *strand, (*land at the edge of a body of water) ,After the crashing

The sun sets on the horizon, casting deep shadows over the landscape. On the top of the cliff a donkey pulls a wooden plough behind him, guided by a lone man in red surrounded by browns, blues, and greens. The cliff tapers off, falling gently to a beach by the water where a Shepard herds his sheep, pure white and full of wool, while they feast on the bright bushes. Crouched on the shoreline, a fisherman in white waits patiently for a catch. In Peter Brugel’s Landscape With The Fall Of Icarus