The Fault Is Not My OwnShall we sit? Yes, dear friend, let us sit. Let us sit where the thermals rise and face where the sun will set. Let us rest awhile, you and I, entwined in a curious intimacy of bird and man.
Look to where the ocean meets the sky. There, on the horizon of all that can be known with the n***d eye, see the pale haze. Where on other days, clear days, the eye will observe a line separating the two hues of blue, one a watery reflection of the other.
Blue, the result of the sun that illumes the world and gives it life.
My eyes behold blue beauty but that solar orb of blazing fire cannot penetrate the black that exists in this husk that is me. A void has grown in the place of life. I'm hollowed out of whatever had once filled me, and now I have only memory to pour back in
