Once in a gleaming grove, I witnessed a movement of the wind. There, past the missing moment, I noticed the flight of pagans. Dancing through the triviality of clarity.
The Summer heat, cooling my pain, ray traced a fractured dream. I was alone.
Looking to my right, I spied a harrowing rabbit, guessing my intentions and beckoning my cry. I leaned forward in my mind and stole his heart. Beating an ancient rythym.
No rain. No Hunters. No mercy until the lucky foot was mine. I was excited.
I stood, pressured by the dirt, took a long inhale and searched. My surroundings gleamed in color life and mystery. Amber clouds fell in. I remembered my past. Grabbed my knife. Determined my mind. Fleeted for the fool.
Vanished in my wind streak, the beat of thunder led me into the bright green harmony. Breath was a sail of the season.
A Jambi.