Thoughts, Stories, The Poem
Dreams of rain in the sky above caught by the sun in clouded cells…
Mitchel David Ring
Nothing but sand and rock and dirt around, and the sun above casting vengeance on the world. If they left the car and never returned, dawn would have been enough to burn away any chance of survival. And yet no bodies in the sand.
Threads now severed are all that was left holding together some facsimile of sense…
Back where mist rolls off the mountainside like exhaled sorrow…
Too many voices screaming, altogether one confusion…
Suddenly the wind stops, sails fall empty against the mast and over worlds unknown we drift…
Blind in a room becoming cold, inches away from inferno…
The rains have always fallen here…
Over concrete floodplains rivers flow, nameless footsteps splashing along…
Separated from all but itself, a mind lashes out against the void…
The waters were divided from the waters…
The worst of it came with the silence…
Already the monuments return to dust, now crypts whose halls play host to legion…
In among the simulacra, tangled with light and the threads of simple lies…
There was a long fall…