I write like this in the morning anyways,
This fact cannot be helped. There is always
A hopeful rhythm in the chaos.
Then, the Void envelopes the Boy
As it always does. The Boy plunges
Into that intangible abyss; pitch black clouds
With young stars trapped just like the Boy.
An Angel plummets through the air,
Black feathers drifting like leaves in the wind
Meeting the Boy in his spiraling descent.
The Angel clutches the Boy in her grasp,
Umbral, yet comforting wings surround around the Boy.
The Void stares at the descending pair,
Eyes sparkling like the stars in the sky.
The Void serves its purpose; A place for reflection.
Cold, harsh light smothers the trio,
Clouds smearing as the trio pierce the sky,
Shattering the cosmos in two.
Immense ultraviolet light bursts into the scene.
A newborn sphere igniting into life.
Now, I emerge once more, my heart fluttering
Even though only a mere moment passed.
Funny, throughout this ordeal I find
That the only story is an illustration of my mind…
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