Where the paths are rough with leaves, strewn with acorns and debris — a sky river descends to cleanse, destroy — indiscriminately. Old wounds, their dressings stripped by rain, now throb in dim, grey light. I shiver from an inner fever: watch the roiling clouds sweep o'er the hills. I — who crouch within humble abode — silent stay and glance through dirty glass. Where windows of my hovel are time-choked by grime and smoke, smooth droplets wend their wild way in rivulets.

Fragments overlay my pristine vision to distort majestic beauty of the countenance soft-crafted by a hand not of this realm. A mirror-mocking funhouse then makes hideous the mein of being strange, unrecognizable, grown thin — who once was clearly me. It cannot be that I can mend this image cast in iron pain — then let the evening take me; then descend the indiscriminate rain! And I will seek not shelter, but let the droplets wend their wild way in rivulets over the broken body of my past in rust and sooty streaks.

That being in halt-stuttered step, I watched grasp blind-and-desperately. It breathed but shallowly, hovered menacing, a purgatorial road of false-made obstacles expanding to horizon sorrow-laid. From without, all still and calm — within, rages the journeyed storm. Each stumble, but half-hearted — a body buffeted by wind, yet falling not — the dark dispersed with every further step. Again the light recedes. I refrain an inner, soulful song to smooth the rocky path made rough with fallen leaves, all strewn with acorns and debris in front of me.

Sky river, now descend to cleanse — destroy discriminately.

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This post is original content created by Daniel Pendergraft / @d-pend
to be published on blockchain on March 19, 2020.

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