a cautionary tale -- interpret as you will
The great, dead thing rose. His steps shook the earth and his breath stunned the wind. Nothing could fathom his existence and lack thereof.
“You humans – so fascinating.”
Voice, gravel. Like thorns at her feet, bleeding through already beaten skin as she stands, naked.
“I have watched you.”
He takes her hand, small and nimble. She shakes; wilted. She can smell the flowers which bloomed in the garden of a home she has not known.
“You walk in complete ignorance of what you are and who you are – specks of stardust, children of ancients and yet so unknowing of what a masterful creation you are.”
He sounds tired. She is – feels the weight heavier on her bones now.
“This individual is not one, but many. Thousands of little things inside of you, trying hard to keep you afloat. Moving. Breathing. Thinking.”
His hand presses to the middle of her chest, warm and wide and welcoming. Her heartbeat picks up.
“The sun fails in comparison to the energy you expel.”
His mouth against her ear, heart in his hand, the world nipping at their heels.
“You are so ignorant of how beautiful you are.”
((And death remains a poor, robbed cradle;
us, dismayed by our own luster.))