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Date Posted: 09:04:20 11/12/09 Thu
Author: Darkling
Subject: The casting

The wind is high and threatening clouds have gathered. Grumbling, they have come to bear witness. The bones are thrown. The aware mark each passing second as years. For all, the outcome will be as a jury's verdict and judge's sentence. A heart that should have never beat awaits its fate. Unblackened,but forever bleeding. Unsure of wanting rest or rejuvenation, damnation or salvation. Daunted by the unhealed wounds of solitude and the betrayal of the long wanted. Bearing the parting blow of the long loved. The bones twist and twine in the writhing darkness. The darknes itself unsure of its own intent. To be the comforting womb or the drowning current is its only question and concern. It thinks itself eternal. Both captor and gaurdian of the shattered soul. It does not know the light may come. May come to eyes that have sought to give that light and found only tears. To be burnt into oblivion by that light would be a sacred blessing. Blinding a kinder fate than binding. A trouble mind akin to a hard driven horse that cannot die. One that can only move faster incapable of the idea of rest. Broken feet that know only to run. A creature guilty of the crime of existing, that dares the blasphemy of hope. In this purgatory to dream of healing and peace are high crimes. Even as hands that cannot contact move to comfort. The immaterial moves through the darkness, a traitor to pain. That which would save, but is powerless to do so. Always, the light is fickle. The outcome unsure and of no significance. Merely one among many awaiting the telling. A single quiet voice amidst a sea of screams. The many who have put the impotence of wishes to make them just once more. A legion of eyes observe the bones in flight. In the moment, they know only waiting and wanting.

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