I was almost thought of as a silent figure that moves about briskly amongst the dirty leaves, roots, rocks and things. A tree stump almost tripped me, but I had caught myself. I had a feeling of fear grow deep in my eyes. The north star shined a true path in a dusky forest at night. Owls talked to me as if they knew me all my life. I was frightened to see anthropomorphic tree look like me. It came across me like wind. Flying daggers slashed my skin. In broad daylight I headed home. Out for nothingness but blind hope. Scattered chicken bones clattered on china plates, the bats occupy my attic. My cellar is home to a wild beast.
Here in the now of present gloomy matters, weaving on a loom seems comforting to do. I hope to create a tapestry depicting destruction of millions of lives. A new dawn shall rise again when the world becomes more rested. Nothing can stop pain from entering through the corridors, yet you or I could be the one to end pain and suffering by willing it away. Strength of a spleen does not determine the reality of a dream to come true.