Tired, panting, I feel the weight of the year crushing me, and with each troubled wheeze escaping my lungs, I stagger toward the cliffedge. The stickiness of my blood rests on my skin, and like spilt soda pop, it hangs heavy on my clothes. There’s fire behind me; I can smell the burning gasoline, and the smoke fills the air. The night is almost over, and the timid foretastes of day bring a cool warmth to the horizon.
I find the spot, my legs sore but numb, and try to sit. Instead, I collapse onto my side, and find the dewy grass kissing my dirty cheek. It feels so distant from me, from the blazing heat inside me, but it’s soft, it’s welcoming. I lay my head in the grass, and gaze out at the distant day.
Below is a ravine, filled and pregnant with life, adorned with the silken blue ribbon of a river, a glistening, ever giving, river. People are waking up, shouting, screaming; the fire-engine’s coming. I can hear those blaring sirens like I might, through some dream, hear an early bird chirruping outside my window. It’s no louder.
Here comes the sun between the mountains, here comes the sun. O night, what death do you hold? The sun is rising, and the river below is like gold, and the ravine is awake and alive. God, O God! The night is over, and I live to see the sun.
Tale Told 
“Here comes the sun between the mountains, here comes the sun. O night, what death do you hold?” The best lines that I read today. 👌
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