Melita
Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down
to swallow the flame down
Even still, Melita didn’t think it was in her cards – not a goal, not an aspiration, not even something tugging at her heartstrings. Too wild, too chaotic, too eager to embrace the world and travel to daring heights, than to be bogged and tied down to titles and other manifestations.
But at Flora’s notions, her brows quirked upward, and her smile rounded back to mischief. “You’d have my vote,” for bedlam and upheaval, for her daring and boldness. With a shrug to her shoulders, she launched another rock, glancing at the bits strewn about. “Seems good enough to me!” And if they didn’t like what they’d do with the artistic flair, they could redo it. Wouldn’t bother her any. “Let’s go find some of that whiskey,” even if there wasn’t a fountain of it. Yet.
{FIN}
But at Flora’s notions, her brows quirked upward, and her smile rounded back to mischief. “You’d have my vote,” for bedlam and upheaval, for her daring and boldness. With a shrug to her shoulders, she launched another rock, glancing at the bits strewn about. “Seems good enough to me!” And if they didn’t like what they’d do with the artistic flair, they could redo it. Wouldn’t bother her any. “Let’s go find some of that whiskey,” even if there wasn’t a fountain of it. Yet.
{FIN}
to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun
to be the sun
