DEIMOS
the resurrected sword
Back to the ocean, back to the sea, no longer caught amongst Fae boughs or Grounds requiems’, solemn, stoic gaze cast upon the reel of tiki torches lining their pathway, people either crowded together or ambling off, mourning in their silent stead. He paid no attention to the music or the games, seemingly incapable of corresponding with ebullience along the subject matter at hand.
Instead, he sighed and followed, eyes catching upon nothing and no one in particular, before swallowing down the traces of other filaments, fragments, and melancholy. His palms held the lanterns he’d made prior – for his mother, of the water, surf, and swell herself, for his father, of the fire, the flames, and the glory of life. Within a moment, he’d finessed embers to rest upon the candles rendered in the middle, granted and given light to echo and glow amongst the others. The beast had a lengthy amount of time to mourn them, years and lives and haunting measures - but the pain and the weight of loss never lessened. It just built and continued, and he walked along the lights by himself, striving not to fall back into those mires.
Instead, he sighed and followed, eyes catching upon nothing and no one in particular, before swallowing down the traces of other filaments, fragments, and melancholy. His palms held the lanterns he’d made prior – for his mother, of the water, surf, and swell herself, for his father, of the fire, the flames, and the glory of life. Within a moment, he’d finessed embers to rest upon the candles rendered in the middle, granted and given light to echo and glow amongst the others. The beast had a lengthy amount of time to mourn them, years and lives and haunting measures - but the pain and the weight of loss never lessened. It just built and continued, and he walked along the lights by himself, striving not to fall back into those mires.
under the bludgeonings of chance
my head is bloody, but unbowed
my head is bloody, but unbowed
