Swimming through the scorched meadows
Sparrow plunges through the rain. Her beak soaked and soaring spirit dampened, she heads for the blades of grass.
The rain is forgiving, only if you let yourself get wet. They can't brush off the water from their brows, they can't chase the droplets rolling down their skin. That is how you become caged within. You become an observer, bound to no agent, with no will. Morality fades, like the sparrow buried between the grasses.
So if you seek redemption through a frozen mind, let your will be barren and your hands drop 10 kilo meters through the earth. Lose your being and be relieved, let the last things on your mind, whispers and memories and maybe a shard of regret flow through the soils, renounce them. Abandon the suffering of agency and responsibility and let the chorus carry you through heavens unimagined.
For your sight shall magnify, and time will start to become shallow and wide. So wide it will encompass everything. So shallow you will crave to dip your toes, but you will find nothing but the banks of a dusty river.
Its flow will weaken, as its breadth becomes universal. You will be granted one moment of atonement. One eternal instant, in which all will be fleeting, and the ounce of regret will weigh on you like your buried hands would drag you through the crust.
Sparrow rises from the blades, looks at the gray skies. The blades cut deep, it is easy to let them into you. And although she bleeds, she wishes to become.
From her drops of blood, more blades. From her wounds, only scars. Yet her time is deep and narrow. The direction, pristine.
She meets their once buried claws, unearthed from eons of howling winds. She won't last like they did.
But she will experience them like they never could. For in this crimson morning, the deep and the wide, the narrow and shallow, shall converge on me.
Am I what you wanted, random one? The winds blew against me, but I didn't move. The water struck at my eyes, but I did not blink.
I am at the crossroads and I wonder if you remember me. But you came too late, as my mind has wondered off already. My body has to follow, and I shall not oppose.
For I learned of the sparrows despair and of their sad wish for air.
I carry water for breathing and shoes for walking this wretched Earth.
The rain is forgiving, only if you let yourself get wet. They can't brush off the water from their brows, they can't chase the droplets rolling down their skin. That is how you become caged within. You become an observer, bound to no agent, with no will. Morality fades, like the sparrow buried between the grasses.
So if you seek redemption through a frozen mind, let your will be barren and your hands drop 10 kilo meters through the earth. Lose your being and be relieved, let the last things on your mind, whispers and memories and maybe a shard of regret flow through the soils, renounce them. Abandon the suffering of agency and responsibility and let the chorus carry you through heavens unimagined.
For your sight shall magnify, and time will start to become shallow and wide. So wide it will encompass everything. So shallow you will crave to dip your toes, but you will find nothing but the banks of a dusty river.
Its flow will weaken, as its breadth becomes universal. You will be granted one moment of atonement. One eternal instant, in which all will be fleeting, and the ounce of regret will weigh on you like your buried hands would drag you through the crust.
Sparrow rises from the blades, looks at the gray skies. The blades cut deep, it is easy to let them into you. And although she bleeds, she wishes to become.
From her drops of blood, more blades. From her wounds, only scars. Yet her time is deep and narrow. The direction, pristine.
She meets their once buried claws, unearthed from eons of howling winds. She won't last like they did.
But she will experience them like they never could. For in this crimson morning, the deep and the wide, the narrow and shallow, shall converge on me.
Am I what you wanted, random one? The winds blew against me, but I didn't move. The water struck at my eyes, but I did not blink.
I am at the crossroads and I wonder if you remember me. But you came too late, as my mind has wondered off already. My body has to follow, and I shall not oppose.
For I learned of the sparrows despair and of their sad wish for air.
I carry water for breathing and shoes for walking this wretched Earth.
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