The day the floods came, the water was on the rise, the soul dammed up by brick upon brick of false promises, egotistical lust, and betrayal.
Every hope of what is real in the world held captive behind a wall that grew out of the ground and into the sky so high, that it blocked out the sun.
Every attempt at an escape felt like drowning in the water that you thought was your own, now a prisoner to the wall, reaching for air to see the light, the surface, is just out of sight.
The day the floods came was the day I came home to see my wife with another man, and in their eyes was a spark of arrogant confidence with the intensity to burn down entire civilizations.
As I stood there in my hollow doorway, I could hear the far off cries of volcanoes weeping into a lifeless ocean, I heard the distant echoes of the ocean tide, the silent sound of the wall melting into the boiling waters it has retained until now. All of this over the sounds of threats to life and hatred screams.
And as I stood there, my breathing heavy, the parade of sounds filling my head, it all came to a dastardly climax on the edge of implosion, when all at once; setting in my head, all fell silent.
The Sun falling into the Westward horizon, emitting its vibrant, soothing colors reassuring the world that it would soon return; as I looked out to see the final inches of that glowing orb disappear into darkness, time seemed to stand still.
An entire infinity had passed by the time the world had finally caught up to me, the ground fell out beneath my feet as I watched pieces of my soul blanket the land of false promises, egotistical lust, and betrayal.
And as I watched hurricanes, whirlpools, and tsunamis rupture the water, all at once, the surface was as smooth as glass, the wild blaze in my soul had finally burnt itself out, amongst the calm of the world, the stars shown with such ferocity as to light my way. At the end of my journey I saw standing there a strong volcano, overseeing its newborn child.
On this island I stood; on this island I stayed.
A makeshift raft, made of a mattress drifted out, and on it drifted two pairs of sorrowful eyes, longing for shelter, clothing, food, and forgiveness, as I watched current strand them in to oblivion.
And as I sat, admiring the calm water, the sounds of the island, the friction of the sand on my body, and the aroma in the air, I looked to the East, to greet the Sun as it fulfilled her promise to return.
christian mullen will be teaching your children in the future so be nice to him or he will teach them communist ideals and cuss words. he is on twitter @aceavery1.
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