Warren Shaw    |    Interdisciplinary artist

1.73 : 02.11.11

 

I am here on the peak. The end of time. Hold onto the clouds. The thin air is choking. Never send us forward again. We do not find anymore solace. The sun sets and lays deep in the sand. The deer lower their heads. In silent salute to the un-questionable end. Jackals moan in the distance. Howling. Looking for her. Small beads run through the sand. A bitter consequence as the hard stone falls from the arch. Crystals shatter and the light prisms and splits into a thousand different shades of loves red. Blue puddles and green lakes. Paper mountains and peaks of lead. We write in the clouds. my love. It whispers. The speaker is true. A bouquet from which nothing escapes. For those that find it. Their king awaits. As the sand turns to glass. The deer open their golden eyes. Everything is clear. Great leaps are taken. The screams are feared. Golden eyes wide they stand their ground.

 

Ash begins to settle. Our backs break at the weight. The deer and I. The sun relaxes. The glass ripples. Forever I knew would always be mine. With gentle sleep and yellow trumpets. A glory beyond truth. The sweet caress of the velvet water. Great hands have found these waves. But none can catch them. Now the ash is thick and the glass is cold. The sun is blue. Like statues we stand. In the lands of the adamantium hive. Our legend persists. With Sapphires in our hearts and leather binding our bones. The jackals are quiet. No reply is heard. Our hearts echo as the blue sun rests. Together we howl. A cacophony of fear. For no more shall we hear the words we found so dear. We are now bathed. In the ashes. Of the infamous. Golden tears.

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