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12-24-2015, 04:15 PM
Lena I'm buried and covered peaceful under millions of stars
The sound of bells echoed along the valleys, intertwining through the tundra, along the plains, through the narrow paths lined with fir; she remembered the jingle, led by a massive turtle (perhaps one more unnamed God immersed in their splendor, in their opulence, never falling into the decadent folds of their empires). She and Imogen, like more and more moths led to a flame, wandered amongst the bulrushes and the Orangemoon flutter, watching as the crisp leaves were eventually woven with white – beautiful, elegant beacons of snow and ice. Eventually, the entire world would be christened and anointed with the sheen, the shear, of the falling powder, but for now, she could marvel at its beauty and wonder all over again. They were breathless and guided by the beacons of bells and harpsichords, Imogen at the helm, the Songbird following, weaving her own carefully laced harmony. She tried to match it melody for melody, aligned with the few remaining twitters of birds and the caroling of the most giving of animals, until her sights set on the giant tree, the maneuvering reptile, and the spiritual essence of kindness and cheer. Though she had little of it as of late, though she was exhausted and tired and simply drained by the passing seasons, the nymph, the sylph, the mystical, weary fey, still smiled, still grinned, towards the celebration of hope. They crossed the bridge, murmuring their thanks, providing their songs, dancing amidst the snow, the glory, the brief, shining hallelujahs always forgotten, cherished in snippets. Both creatures bowed their heads towards the turtle, polishing their gratitude and appreciation for another year seen and blessed in his stead. “Thank you – everyone will be glad to see you,” she whispered into the void, because he meant salvation and hope, and she remained bright and merry, resolute and beatific, waiting for more to arrive, for more to be stirred by the sonnets of laughter and the beauty of benevolence, instead of the sinuous acts of sin. [<33333] |
