Birth
The heat form the mother of life nurtures the green clan's children as a mother nurtures her child giving it hope, giving it dreams, giving it life. They are the blood of their ancestors. The first children of the Xanthus ancestor for they are all that everything is and the flesh of sky who breathes the life in to them. They are small but it is they who hold the balance in time but know they do not.
Age
The wind whips at the wiltering leaves, whispering the tune of age, the tune of peace, the tune of death into their aged limbs that connect one another to a simple purpose, a simple cycle, a single live with many lives. From root to trunk to branch to twig they are all connected. For Birth, age then death Is not the end but a cycle. Soon they will all be reborn but know they do not.
Death
Now the whispered tune of age, the tune of peace, the tune of death is a distant memory, lost in time. A broken connection from a hidden trust. The wind heralded the green clan's children into one of her every changing arms with the promise of light. They were ignorant, blind trust bind judgement because justice is blind, now they see their brethren who did not wish to fly them who still have a connection to life, it is they who are truly lost. In the cycle of birth age and death they will be eternally loss and once they will live but now they will not. But the others, the ones that dream of the world away from this verdant land. The ones that saw their death and did not let the risk waver their choice. The ones who are injured in the blue spider web trenches and the battlefields of life. It is them who will live. But know they do not
Reawakening
Now they contradict their landscape, green above brown, brown below green. Soon they will be one. One knowledge, one life, one soul that nurtures the existence above. These descendants of the sun will be as they were be four in another body with anew purpose, anew soul but know they are stacked one on top of another in fragile line but threatening to topple over at any moment, they are awoken from their slumber of death but alive they are not. They only have a few more moments that combined make time till they will be reborn but know they do not.
YOU ARE READING
random poems and what not
Kurzgeschichteni cant write novels. the end , no comment. you see i struggle with the whole plot thing , so i have somehow managed two start writing poetry and hopefully these chapters wont crash burn and die. p.s. this is a competition, if you manage two find out...
