wrinkle-crackle crystal specialties

Return from Lethe

Engulfed by black ripples of forgetfulness, beyond the fallen towers of the night toppled by the moon’s delivering rays, to the hidden boats of weariness among once sun-burnt images washed dark by shadows of the rotted beams – then fading into the caress of lovers behind their accusations of the light, an expanse is revealed, a line of aged joy appears upon rejection of the day, no longer denying the wonder of remembered ways. Purified by the incense of the salt-ridden upon ancient sensations of decay, I awake – to the accused denier – the light of humanity scattered upon the waves.

While the saddened spoil of life arises to the profoundness of this time, lost distance appears to leave the wretchedness behind. History escapes the towers’ fall, leaving riddled ruins of the people of the Nile. Now – I moan until the end of the day, the sea washing the empty holds of time.

Surrounded by the stalwart beings that urge the orb onward with their might, the moon palely fosters her cleansing rays upon the bedded grief of the morning sun.


Part of Flash Mob 2013 – over 100 great flash fiction pieces from over 100 great writers!

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