Justice came down upon us, found us and judged us into a whimpering night. We were gods servants out in the stratosphere, men women and critters were strewn among us and inbetween us. We were there, in the godhead, seeing everything bathed in the radiance of the father. It was a distinct white light, searing away at the darkness and in that image we knew darkness was women and the light was men. Battle followed but a mighty man climbed on the back of the sun and slew the moon, we spent the rest of the evening building a rocketship hoping to climb to the conquered moon.
Leaves fell and we forgot, be it æons or weeks, time is still that same singularity, still that dead man on coarse wood, a memory thrown through the galaxy like a spear written both love and hate upon, a spear that has not found its mark, a leave still falling. Autumn in a park, duffels found for the first time and scarves prickling friendly, the smell of cold grass, the sensation of dark descending and the yearning for a cozy couch with pizza and a blockbuster, not reaching out but staying still
The moon rose and the oceans with her, we felt changed and different, locked for another direction, one we hadn't been doing for a while, we forgot why we said yes the first time and we're searching our souls and minds for an answer or a newer question but it's not really something we see, it is time spiralling out for direction.
That middle paragraph is a winner.
I've missed you, Sepia
I love the spear image
For shame, Kai, whole thing is the bees' knees! Sepia, good to see new stuff!