The Lone Inhabitant

March 18, 2010
Far underneath, there is a blackness that burns.
It blazes as the tongues of fire lick upward, gasping for breath.
The flames rage on and on. Begging under the table like a dog, for more sustenance.

High above is the sky, tormented by the winds.
Never self-sufficient, what it holds must always rely on another.
Not strong enough to hold itself and with the sky so incompetent, the cloud empties.

Here in between, lies the area of no known inhabitants.
But I sit here waiting and watching. No one knows I'm here, and I like it that way.
So here I stay, here I say, leave me be and let me watch the storm.

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