The glow before the storm. A leading haze from dark clouds pushing the sun and growling low like the hunger of a primal god.
It’s beyond beauty to me but there are numerous scales.
So I’ll sleep under the cover of storm clouds, at least up to the chin and in my slumber allow the space as comfort.
I know where no weather falls, where all kinds approach every sense of man. These days are fond of people and it still fails to keep us. Fear of neither nature or mankind the Minos is steadily seated upon the principle chair and the maze around never existed. Each approach of limited perception builds to its own demise.
The horns change and accent towards the mediums of time tempting whichever obstacles plague the generation.
Lengthy Exhale, Growl, or Thunder?
No jewelry, no adornments. Fear isn’t welcome here and doubt a frailty. Fools look too long, give too much stature. Another turn in the maze and instant vertical expansion to mirror the shock. The glow pushed further away
Focus
Pending the task of perception over environment the overall brightness changes and one can look the chair more over. It holds an odd mixture that breaks any normal sense of texture. Cold granite back, warm angles of bone, deep rich lines of brown striking through marble…maybe red and even hint of dark and soft moss at the corners. Too long a gaze and the presence occupying this pillared cusp persists unmoved as the spoiled coin of time drops with pitched echoes off the surface.
I can’t say this is mine, I won’t fucking say I care. Sealed as if a fist of woven light years, galaxies bury my treasure true. All on that edge of infinite, singularity defines my love and peace. If ever I’ve known either, lest even held, better than and then. Fear is never mine a favored construct or mechanism.
Few have seen a dragon with a crippled bite, who’s the time? I assure you though, I have…and more so the entity over which a serpent tooth breaks. Can’t let our eternal get fat can we? A shade casts over all…one pushing the light
Deep inhale, instinct, or draft?
Four fingers about the lip of cosmos and a slender arm behind it. Mistaken stance of shield has soon forgotten the space about the stormy blanket.
Mirrored pool
....------.... 