World spread wide, with no secrets, bare but for the scant skeleton trees and brittle black boulders boldly preparing to weather the imminent upheaval. With every passing moment, the gale force gusts gather strength, unearthing long forgotten reserves. In the distance, the innocent little ripple of hills soak in the sudden blackness, gorging themselves on the deep shadows. Emboldened by their newfound energy, they envelope their immediate surroundings, rising to become entrancing tidal waves, threatening to engulf the entire world. Closer, a once lazy river has worked itself into a fit, its frenzied, frothing fury frantically feeling ever higher up the horrified banks. A lonely bird is just a splotch of ink spilled on an already sopping parchment.
August 29, 2010