There it is, his everlasting desert. A desert with tales of ancient deeds aged in the wisdom of the sand, forgotten in the pain of the fresh desert wind.
He kept on moving forward, never looking back. He knew that back there nothing’s left, at least not for him. All the symbolic of this desolate realm capture his inner condition. His presence, even everything he had represented as far as he can tell, is hidden somewhere undreamed in this undiscovered landscape, on this forgotten world. He walked persistently on the sand, despite the friction, he felt as there was no ground beneath him in this region sculpted for no humans.
In this place he wasn’t accompanied by any color, there also weren’t neither darkness nor light left for his tired blue gaze. He kept on grabbing for the mystic which lied before him, curious by nature, and yet unthinkable and unknown to its very core, despite eons of knowledge gathered in his ancient life. He opened his senses to receive the desolation and the totality in silence surrounding him. This tranquility was a cherished gift to harbor, a serenity which had incorporated itself deep within the bones. From the core within there was glitter with an ember of a secret sun projecting itself outward, through the pores of the skin.
This unnatural emergence had brought back the freshness in his breath and the sparkle in his deep blue eyes. He felt alive again in this nonplace, right here, amongst the stars and all the the secret moons… in his kingdom made of sand, a kingdom of one.
No comments:
Post a Comment