A shadow passes overhead, and soon is joined by others. Circling, the vultures gather ‘round me in this dried desert. I don’t bother looking up; the miserable cretins may follow me as long as they like; they will not touch my body.
The windswept land covers my tracks under ever-shifting sand, severing me from my past. I will not look behind longing for what was mine. In this spilling hourglass of life, all things fall away.
I look ahead to the mountains, jagged shadows set before a troubled sky. There I see the distant flashes of lightning, creation’s wild sparks.
Tale Told 