The need for shadows

Let there be some shadows, please
the light reveals too clearly all
i have come here to say, tonight
that would just not do.

The epiphany that had once
stirred awake stonny feet, has died
now, its carcass moves forward still,
shedding momentum, a trail is left
across the silence of my peace.

Time bends towards the catastrophic,
there is an origin to all things, and
a definate end to some.
Too late is often altogether too real

Barely manifest, this need to push,
it will, given time, subvert all
to its own ends. Carefull, broken man,
where feet tread; to this sorrow,
the only end is the grave.



D

But the Feeling has resurfaced

Completely starved our hero tries to crawl towards the bread. his palms cut, bleeding, his gentle soft flesh torn and burning.
He's been here a thousand times before. Just here.
His body covered in sweat from the effort his musles straining and his hands on their last legs. His body is wracked by fever that burns within him even hotter than the wind outside..

The point of no return is a small speck in the dust that rises behind him.. the bread is almost within his grasp.. his stomach rumbles a familiar tune.. his mouth salivates freely... his crazed eyes bright with the hope and salvation the bread signifies...his tongue lolls about like a pendulum..

the hot dry wind blows over him,,, eating at the open sores on his back.. gnawing at the very last shreads of his humanity..
He keeps at it. Almost there... Almost there...

The Bread is just within his grasp now..

Almost there .. Almost there...

For a brief second, a great joy surges through his frame.. almost negating all the pain... the blood... the sweat the thousand trails of raw hurt he's left behind him.

Almost there! Almost There!

A strong gust of wind surges its way through.,,. carries the bread a little farther off.

He's been here a thousand times before. Just here.

Completely starved our hero tries to crawl towards the bread. his palms cut, bleeding, his gentle soft flesh torn and burning.

g
<*_*>