Once again, I am blanketed by the shadow of this colossus. Its influence stretches to the horizon and conceivably, further yet. I lay silent. Between the moment of breath and exhalation, the earth speaks hesitantly, trembling and nervous, pleading for a tear drops pity, but we are one in the same, so I shall sob for myself.

If for a silhouette to wander, there needn’t be light, I would have supposed the sun had run too, quivering now in some distant space, petrified by its own brilliance, wishing never again to identify a single thing, shining promptly inwards, in the hopes that monstrous visions burn.

Gravity surrenders, allowing the beast to pass. Oceans wash the sky, appreciative of the gesture, nevertheless, a disappointment. This filth that dirties the expanse is undeniable and so the heavens are muddied.

What wound bleeds more, than one self-inflicted? What nightmare rejects a feast of fear? I have died a thousand times in this twilight, I will die a thousand more. Soon to forfeit the grave, scorched and trodden soil rejects me. I can scarcely bury my head.

Witness the divide. Everlasting disconnection. As resemblance fades, songs of the aggressor brutalize the ears of those hopeful for an answer.

I needn’t know who, how or why, for I could see what was, what is and what will be.

So I lay silent. Between the moment of breath and exhalation.


Published by Lobster Thoughts

Poetic expression and general madness.

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