Tossing and turning through the air, falling forever, surrounded by the shouts of madness and despair. Here and there, I get a glimpse of the world before, of quiet prayers or empty streets, but pulled back quickly into the melee, I’m caught up in the next rising turmoil. It is always something, some new hope or desperate struggle we all must deal with before it’s too late. This ceaseless tyranny of emergency, a never ending series of crises, each link in the chain a circle without beginning or end, imprisons us in this bedlam vortex of our own eternal screams.
Rising Screams
Tale Told 