The Moth

December 18, 2008
Hollow and dim are the eyes that once radiated with life. Mottled and gray is the face aged by pain. The breaths are shallow and infrequent. The loom slowly spins the thread of being. The warmth retreates from the gentle hands, and welcomes the icy chariot of demise. The pendalum swings back and forth. The sand in the hourglass dwindles grain by grain. The heart sings a mournful, macabre tune that fades like an echo over snow-capped mountains. Ashes to ashes, cinders fall on the body like snowflakes, blanketing it in a silken shroud. The slate-lipped mouth beckons a breath of air into the lungs. The loom stops spinning and the happy silver blade cuts the thread. Silence, anxious silence. The body rises, falls, and then is still. Still, and cold, and empty. Peace, long-awaited peace. An owl cries a haunting and doleful song to the bane moon, and the pale horse shakes its ghostly mane. A misty-winged moth breaks from its long-dormant cacoon and flutters silently out of the parted, ashen lips, then vanishes into eternity.

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aprilfool6784 said...
Sept. 10, 2009 at 8:55 pm
awesome! i love it when people tie in tidbits from other parts of the literature/writing world! i love greek mythology. and the line makes it sound really cool and mysterious.
aprilfool6784 said...
Sept. 10, 2009 at 4:43 pm
"The loom stops spinning and the happy silver blade cuts the thread" sounds like the Fates in Greek mythology
Monique B. This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. replied...
Sept. 10, 2009 at 7:55 pm
Thank you! That was actually my intention!
bubj98 replied...
Nov. 14, 2010 at 11:30 am
i to did see somegreek mytology mixed in there it was great!!!!!!!
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