It's taken a lifetime to lose my way
All the wasted time on my hands turns to sand
Eventually, his waiting ceased. In glimmers of lights and portals, in sojourns through tragedy and travesties and disasters, the Harpy emerged.
There was temptation to laugh as she strode through with every air, every nuance, as a triumphant, victorious warrior – and perhaps she was, given the circumstances, given the battles they’d forged, given the bizarre nuances, given the way they’d nearly been led to slaughter.
The relief cascaded off of him in waves, and even though she couldn’t feel it any longer, there must’ve been something tangible in the weight lifting off his shoulders, in the light smile curling in the corners of his mouth, in the promise of better days and evenings and some measure, some scale, of home. “Hi,” he billowed back, before taking her in his arms, settling her where she’d be comfortable, intending to start moving, already turning away from the Fangs’ adornments. Unicorn followed, and deer flew.
There were no you made it or you survived statements. Her presence was enough to justify the notion. “Are you all right?” exuded instead; because he needed to know. The reassurance, the entanglements, the wherewithal that she’d not been overcome.
There was temptation to laugh as she strode through with every air, every nuance, as a triumphant, victorious warrior – and perhaps she was, given the circumstances, given the battles they’d forged, given the bizarre nuances, given the way they’d nearly been led to slaughter.
The relief cascaded off of him in waves, and even though she couldn’t feel it any longer, there must’ve been something tangible in the weight lifting off his shoulders, in the light smile curling in the corners of his mouth, in the promise of better days and evenings and some measure, some scale, of home. “Hi,” he billowed back, before taking her in his arms, settling her where she’d be comfortable, intending to start moving, already turning away from the Fangs’ adornments. Unicorn followed, and deer flew.
There were no you made it or you survived statements. Her presence was enough to justify the notion. “Are you all right?” exuded instead; because he needed to know. The reassurance, the entanglements, the wherewithal that she’d not been overcome.
I'm fine in the fire
I feed on the friction
