atrasties

In the last push of twilight, dust catches the sun and glowing as if possessing some inner force awkwardly permeates the skin. The tilt of my hat has been reset to allow for a strange feeling; A sensation that I'm falling towards some unimaginable core. I regard the journey that occurs through jolting gusts of icy wind and mists so thick the body strikes it forcibly, then nothing but the cascade of a warm syrup in a color I refuse to associate. The blast of gold in the distance that strikes my being from memory and the solace and silence that it reminds me of drops a single tear to the waiting abyss; still I fall. Till at the last moment shadows fold from beneath my skin, lit from the inside I rupture into new and fanatastic forms, soaring on wings of etheral filament, casting aside the shuttered veiws of reality which have penned me in. I arc and cast strand after strand into the dark climbing ever higher, trusting in this new sense to find purchase in nothing, I no longer look to the confines I imagined but beyond.
The abyss opens upon a vast field of waving grass linear and shimmering, smelt into being by a master smith. A metallic tang hangs in the air and settles on the tongue, it beads and balls and jutts through bringing the hint of blood. There in the distance drawing ever near is a temple of an origin unknown which shifts and twists just as the eye begins to comprehend. To stand upon its peak will be the rise and fall in one instance and as I turn from it there is a moan and the thunder of destruction as it collapses upon itself. There is nothing more than a rich facade hiding tiny men who scuttle to and fro attempting to sit on the heights of decay.
The open sky calls to my spirit and though my feet may never leave the soil upon which I stand I shall wing daily towards my destination whatever that may be. Peace fills the empty parts of me and slowly my eyes alight on the morning, another day to fill with me and I put my strengths towards it and dream.