Shiver!
To stand at the widening mouth, teethless, but uncurling so many tongues of routes that only kick a phantoms shadow with dust and gust. The ends nowhere to be seen. The beyond an ebony hollow overlayed with stratums of razor violet, toppled by the brilliance of blazing scarlet and amber, while merging above the great illumination’s cousins dance into existence with a flicker at the last golden exodus’s twinkle.
Why, oh, why? Why did I ever wait so long to pursue the way home? Now it has become late, and I cannot see to where the road ends. Each appears so similar, how do I decide, or even dare take another step lest I am ensnared into an endless path.
The comfort of life as it was, as it had been felt so sweet to never even step across threshold containing luxury and security. A day but a cool breeze, with the mind at ease. Unfortunately, the day had come when the Father announced the journey to undertake. The vines swelling with miniscule worlds containing oceans of sweetness withering to a looming twilight. While rivers of cream and trees of honey that fed peace of stomach and heart now drying at an unseen pit-less appetite. Father in infinite foresight forges ahead to build a new home free of the craven appetite’s clasp.
For the memory still recalls the Father’s words, Do not be fooled by the gentle slopes or straight paths of the branching roads. Those beckon to a journey lost in eternal grey haze. Keep to path where the pebbles rise and fall, but never pierce the foot. Keep between the straight under the silhouette of the wardens’ stature. Although, there will many a twist and turn there will be sweet grove at each and cool liquid to drink. Do not stray from path lest the wild things overtake you. And follow not that which glows to your own heart. Prepare for the adventure, with neither fret or angst. But come too late and the gate be shut, not to recognize a different traveler than the one whom I call.
Yet now even those slip with the edging brilliance in the crushing conclave of ashen shapes and fluid blackness. Above the cousins seem to laugh with delight. Merry are their dancing above, so careful to avoid another’s step. All the while, seemly unnoticing the plight below. All but a meager ivory candle. Unwilling to illuminate any more to see the far side of the journey’s end.
Suddenly, pop, little brother of ocean pearl splashes upon this silent world. Instantly as a knife spreading butter a ghostly pale daubing over the previously masked crusty expanse. Isles of phantom woods whose once glorious twig and leaf caught and held a liquid ray, now stretch with a crook and hook. All the world spun on the axis of sense to nonsense. No more fit for the living. But still the voyage must be on or arrive too late. But which path to take?
Which path to take?!
Which path to take?
Yes, which path to… wait, that was not our own voice.
No swoosh, no rush, nor snap, stamp, or even thunderclap. All still a static sight with puddling of grey and ghostly pale in the eyesight.
Except, for a traveling spark flying without care but in a hurry. A molten rose against the dull expanse, and even swatting back the ivory lamp for its own iridescent beauty. Coming face to orb, it was a cherry of an ocean with splashing and tossing of igneous rainbows silently spraying its path as a royal train in possession. So many its colors, yet never an ivory as the cousins high above.
Which path to take? Why just follow and I’ll illuminate your way.
Relief or caution? This stranger is no less a spook as is an undeniable beauty. The arcing splash of its shifting light, dabbles those near in a palette not completely reminiscent to its splendor in broad daylight.
The ears still a tingle to the dancing cousins change in chorus at such an arrival, but there is no mistake at the heart’s refection.
Please, lead on. Let us not delay before it’s too late.
To stand at the widening mouth, teethless, but uncurling so many tongues of routes that only kick a phantoms shadow with dust and gust. The ends nowhere to be seen. The beyond an ebony hollow overlayed with stratums of razor violet, toppled by the brilliance of blazing scarlet and amber, while merging above the great illumination’s cousins dance into existence with a flicker at the last golden exodus’s twinkle.
Why, oh, why? Why did I ever wait so long to pursue the way home? Now it has become late, and I cannot see to where the road ends. Each appears so similar, how do I decide, or even dare take another step lest I am ensnared into an endless path.
The comfort of life as it was, as it had been felt so sweet to never even step across threshold containing luxury and security. A day but a cool breeze, with the mind at ease. Unfortunately, the day had come when the Father announced the journey to undertake. The vines swelling with miniscule worlds containing oceans of sweetness withering to a looming twilight. While rivers of cream and trees of honey that fed peace of stomach and heart now drying at an unseen pit-less appetite. Father in infinite foresight forges ahead to build a new home free of the craven appetite’s clasp.
For the memory still recalls the Father’s words, Do not be fooled by the gentle slopes or straight paths of the branching roads. Those beckon to a journey lost in eternal grey haze. Keep to path where the pebbles rise and fall, but never pierce the foot. Keep between the straight under the silhouette of the wardens’ stature. Although, there will many a twist and turn there will be sweet grove at each and cool liquid to drink. Do not stray from path lest the wild things overtake you. And follow not that which glows to your own heart. Prepare for the adventure, with neither fret or angst. But come too late and the gate be shut, not to recognize a different traveler than the one whom I call.
Yet now even those slip with the edging brilliance in the crushing conclave of ashen shapes and fluid blackness. Above the cousins seem to laugh with delight. Merry are their dancing above, so careful to avoid another’s step. All the while, seemly unnoticing the plight below. All but a meager ivory candle. Unwilling to illuminate any more to see the far side of the journey’s end.
Suddenly, pop, little brother of ocean pearl splashes upon this silent world. Instantly as a knife spreading butter a ghostly pale daubing over the previously masked crusty expanse. Isles of phantom woods whose once glorious twig and leaf caught and held a liquid ray, now stretch with a crook and hook. All the world spun on the axis of sense to nonsense. No more fit for the living. But still the voyage must be on or arrive too late. But which path to take?
Which path to take?!
Which path to take?
Yes, which path to… wait, that was not our own voice.
No swoosh, no rush, nor snap, stamp, or even thunderclap. All still a static sight with puddling of grey and ghostly pale in the eyesight.
Except, for a traveling spark flying without care but in a hurry. A molten rose against the dull expanse, and even swatting back the ivory lamp for its own iridescent beauty. Coming face to orb, it was a cherry of an ocean with splashing and tossing of igneous rainbows silently spraying its path as a royal train in possession. So many its colors, yet never an ivory as the cousins high above.
Which path to take? Why just follow and I’ll illuminate your way.
Relief or caution? This stranger is no less a spook as is an undeniable beauty. The arcing splash of its shifting light, dabbles those near in a palette not completely reminiscent to its splendor in broad daylight.
The ears still a tingle to the dancing cousins change in chorus at such an arrival, but there is no mistake at the heart’s refection.
Please, lead on. Let us not delay before it’s too late.
