(no subject)
There was a burning field of grass and leaves over which we walked without hesitation, the flames barely breaching the soles of our shoes and feet as we meandered - though with definite purpose - up towards the crest of the hill silhouetted by a blanket of clouds the color of bruises against a vibrant and violent sunset. As we reached the ridge the clouds parted at the height of twilight and we stopped simultaneously to look back on a barren land devoid of life but rich with color that comes from the desperation and clinging light of the dying day ignorant to the promise of its own rebirth.
When we reached that peak we sat and sang those Songs of Youth from which we'd learned to dance and die and prayed to set the sunset free from time so we might know the moment all our lives. Curses sent to God Our Brother upon the darkness rising. And from infinite depths we purged our names and flayed our skins and danced upon the naked flames of burning Earth to shame the stars.
When we reached that peak we sat and sang those Songs of Youth from which we'd learned to dance and die and prayed to set the sunset free from time so we might know the moment all our lives. Curses sent to God Our Brother upon the darkness rising. And from infinite depths we purged our names and flayed our skins and danced upon the naked flames of burning Earth to shame the stars.