Between the Broken Stone| Chapter 2

The sun opens with a complexion more prominent than yesterday.

A cloud of ashen dust blocks the golden statement of the sky, but the heavens come forth. The sun will always win, for it is the golden god whom everything revolves around – reminiscent of myself, seven years prior to my decline.

It is a good day compared to yesterday. So why am I so sad? The sun is worshipped; the sky is clearly grey and beautiful… but out of such beauty, unsightly blackness fills the sky. Closer it comes before I am able tosee they are crows - flying beneath me - eating the wormwood that sat so tenderly by the acacia. The sky dims and the gods begin to cry. The light had not lasted as long as expected.

And the fortuity stalled as predicted, but not by chance alone. I suspect it was the blackbirds crowing at my misfortune.

As far as present, it is not the future, so I can not anticipate it. Neither is it past, so I can not remember.

The future ensnarled in the past
And I am somewhere in between –

The future sprightly with destruction
With the past morose for what it’s done,
Trying to salvage reconstruction
Until the present kills the progress done.

Just before the sun sets east, and the dusk begins to rise, the solemn nature of my time is lost beneath the skies.

Above the stars.

I slip into a horizon overnight, where when I wake up I hear: