Earth's Decay

The wind roars as I walk this road. Perhaps its yells are of importance. But of that knowledge, I may never know. All I can say is to listen to the wind. Listen through its gentle breeze and bellowing rage. Listen as the willow softly weeps. And perhaps one day you might hear something. Although most times its words are never clear, sometimes, if you listen, you can hear the whispers of the wind. The breath of the world.

I walk the road. The one that was laid before me. Above, the clouds still stand. A dark shadow overhead. I feel as though I have been here before. I look around. But familiarity has lost its hold in memory. I have no remembrance of this place. Just a feeling. That the dark is nothing new. I've dealt with it once before still uncertainty grips my thoughts. As I walk the rain falls. Each drop splatters on the ground. I look to the dome above. Does the world cry too? I look to it for answers. It gives none. But I didn't expect it to. I walk under a tree and sit. Me and the pouring rain. I remember the wanderers from before. Sometimes I wonder if the world knows the pains of each soul. Now I wonder if each soul knows the pain of the world. So I watch the rain fall. In each drop I see a story. A memory. A tear for the ones forgotten. A drop for the ones in pain. A cry for the ones who are lost. And so the world weeps. And I wonder.  Is peace found at the road's end? Or...

Days have passed. I think. I do not know. I can tell only by the tick of time. For the turn of the day has failed me. In the darkness of the day. As the sphere withholds its light behind a cloud of darkness. When shadows fall is it the fault of darkness? Or is it the fault of the light for not shining as it should have? If shadows are the absence of light then perhaps we should blame the light. For not being present. For not being there when we need it the most. For keeping me in the dark. Where all I see is a road. That I know not whether to follow. I don't know where it leads. I don't know where I'm going. I ask the light to guide me. But there is none. Only darkness. So with that, I take the road and walk.

I wrote something. Then I did it again. And again. And again. I wrote about the dome. I wrote about a sphere. I wrote about the darkness. I wrote about the truth. But still the question lingers. Is it for me or for you? Who are you?

Why? T   H  E  R  E' S .                             D.        The      A .                                                        N                      F                                                         U        Truth     E     ...

Today I searched for words once lost, glyphs inscribed in paper, tales of the stories I once told. I found them. They gave me peace. Even if it was only for a moment. But these words, these words, these words, I hope they are not lost. I hope the message won't be forgotten. Keep them. For this is what I have to give. Because today, darkness fell on the sea of the dome. But this time it was different. This time, it stayed. Through the darkness the wanderers howled. Their crooked hearts reaching out. They tore at their own flesh. They screamed as if in pain, and I believe they were. Emptiness is an awful pain. And I can't say if I howled with them... I don't remember.