Reveries of the Tainted

Chapter Sixteen

The flesh upon June's knees stung from the warmth of a limitless sun and every particle within; resonating through the very bones that held her vessel strong and sturdy as it fused anchors between tendon and joint.

A fluid filled her ears, cutting off the sense entirely and leaving her defenseless in a world of deafness. A blood of purity began its circulation beyond the heart and all that connected it to eager tunnels of life—existing first as a pool of orange within the most elevated vertebrae. The previous waterfall down her spine was soothed to relief as the gaping pathway was filled by sustenance fit for the most righteous evolution.

Though she knew this to be the ultimate transformation, it seemed to draw the least amount of pain and the most amount of relief. Her bones ached, but muscles vibrated in the sweetest of frequencies, mingling with the waves of a world she would find herself to belong.

Her skin deepened, carotene productions introduced to bodily functions had began sharpening the sight within her pineal glad, radiating the same hue of orange that tinted her thickening flesh composition. She bore no wonder or amazement with the process as a familiarity of all that came to be solidified within the newfound rubble from dams and walls that were burned to ash.

There was no enlightenment to be reached as each piece to the puzzle could never see the big picture until joined with its counterparts. Her mind was crafted as a puzzle piece, but her soul burned in eternal fires of a bloodied diaphragm; awaiting the call her spirit would release upon the ends of time. She was more, expanding beyond the collective that Mother ruled and touching a new consciousness.

It was not a far away land that took space and matter from their piece of a physical and spiritual universe, but instead was the construction of stepping stones to a plane above. It resonated with and as this small vessel, as she was the labyrinth that would lead to the greater horizon.

Her feet held her more sturdy than ever, ready to run furlongs in order to defeat the chill-inducing lavas that threatened to blacken reborn flesh. It was the feel of confidence and full-preparation, the battle cry that would lead her to an untimely death.

Though every nerve that aided her before told her that immediate action was the only way a success would come to be, it was a call that her being did not respond to. The analysis of scenery provided nothing beyond ash and a muggy fog that absorbed and destroyed all fragments of light upon contact.

There no longer remained the perfect harmony of greens upon yellows and blues and pinks and purples and browns and oranges.

There no longer remained a choir of soft silvers lurking in gentle wind patterns or the creatures of wood in which it mingled with.

As fight broke out upon Earths surface, chaos overcame every song that ever met the airs of Her origin. The world in which Mother existed as would bear no physical representation as all unseen in the fabrics of time were tainted and singed to nothing.

The dissolution of Her material attachment was overcome by Her creation of wicked. It was a genesis that would have never found a way of being if the residues of expansion were not marinating unfelt and under radar.

It was not only from worlds that she created, as there were many creators that crafted existence to build. More times than not, when a population was to build under an identity that was first given as a portion of their collective and made to expand beyond the obstacles of their fabricated reality, they would find themselves lost within themselves years after their expiration. The soiling of a species was most common amongst less caring forms of universal wielders and left to perish and allow the growth of something that formed its own capacity for intelligence.