A storm coming

… And the bird emerged out of a shallow darkness, lit brilliantly by a flashing sun, before dipping below the next shaft of wind. The storm shimmered the spaces in front of me; the air crackled while the breezes of yesterday fell off to the north. Waves of energy, pools of light, my body was electrified on the edge, on a razor’s edge of miasmic foreboding.
The sun set ever earlier, we grew ever stiller, and the running of children was choked off by a dead future.
And in the darkness ever-deepening there were no shadows anymore, none but the brilliant shaft of light thrown down from heaven, slowly shaking off his collective deception of our addled minds.
All lied, all acted out their roles in ever-increasing incompetency, and all forgot how or why they ever reached such a depraved state.

My temples throbbed with atmospheric pressure, the wind blew back my ever-receding hairline. A darker, abominable band of clouds pushed through the lightened storm. Light flashed, lightening seared, thunder rumbled through the heavens. It was all around and within us, and it burst forth through diseased modalities of thought and ruptured calcified ideologies masquerading as movements wrapped inside enigmas, tied off with a cult leader.
The rain pattered heavily upon our plot, washing away scripts, tropes, and diversity quotas. The cues of a plan laid from the beginning were drowned out in a heavenly roar.
And in that torrential downpour, it was realized by many for the first time that we could barely breathe, that others had been siphoning off our living water and repaying us with fetid pools of warm shallow desire.

And it wasn’t here that our fate was determined, that our children first realized the error of their grandparents. No it was in us from the first heartbeat, from the first time we put on clothes. A shelter is prepared for those who wish a purposeful end to their suffering. We gave in so many times that we should have to be born again to ever develop a backbone.

The light flickered through veils of warm redness. My heart beat, our heart beat, and we took our first shaky steps as free beings into the storm.

Published by Principium24

I want to write, as millions have before me. And I want to know what it is to be human, as few have before me.

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