...if it wasn’t for the wind she’d feel calm. She stands there anyway. Remembering when the love and happiness was enough. Remembering what it felt like to be surrounded by blue sky and sunshine. Now everything has the harsh dullness of gray and the wind is always just a little on the cold side.
Her days lately have her searching. She has wandered the far corners of her mind as well as her land. All of these journeys have turned up fruitless. So today, just another day, a Wednesday I think, she has stopped walking. Now she stands.
If she listened to the voices she would have sliced her self up by now. No, she fancies herself better than that. Smarter than that. Instead she has decided to fight. She often wonders about her strength level but none-the-less, she will fight.
It’s not quite darkness, but the gray lacks light. She can feel it attempt to consumer her. She can feel its icy fingers crawl under her clothes, under her skin. Her drives are all starting to shut down. Hunger, has faded to a slight thirst. Sex has faded to a longing to be held, even just a slight brush of her hair. Motivation has lessened to a slight inkling to see what’s next. She’s outnumbered in this and she knows it.
Yet she stands. The wind in all its might and flexibility cannot move her. The perfect picture of human dominance. The perfect picture of light being created within, slow as that process may be. The perfect picture of divinity on earth.
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