Green Ruins & Shallow Blues
Book II: FRUITFUL
(c) 2023 Kyrinn S. Eis All Rights Reserved Worldwide
Ayrqthon saw all this hewn from oily black, stone as dark as moonsless night and out of it the times He had spent, here, in other whens -- and henceforth sights beyond the ken of the horizon line -- His incarnation of His Father through un-light enmeshed in bone and sinews silver tendons and blood aflight through veins, a webwork of red in his pierc'ed sight -- this... mystery, this blessed life. Ayrqthon turned and gazed with love anew upon his maiden fair, now wife, through and through; her girlish eyes, seen so much more than years had lived and in them saw her soul-crushed silent awe and wondrous delight as chips of stone in fall to floor in the same moment he had this, thick as blood and black as night, time had begun to explore -- he breathed again between heart beats, and whispered thanks to Whom? A Name he could not speak, and through it all, a shadow of the taller soul, His Father like a Shade to cover infinite Light, beside that beauteous Tyrant of comedic plight and bemus'ed sorrows -- whose unequalled quill did every story write -- this... his Father eternal, humbled more than angel-fellow from man's burnt bones could tell tales no one could hear, for in their hearing souls would flee -- the blasted magnum opus 'bless'ed be in knowing not', He'd say, and yet do live and laugh and play, ...for that thing to which all must pay visits each one ...in some ill-fashioned way.
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