March 27, 2010 - 1:22am — Seed
We stand on grey rocks, clad in grey fog. We call. We form ribbons of dance and circles of leaping bodies. We send drifting clouds of mist into the air on our outstretched voices. We are particles around the rocks and waves on top of them, trying to form a beacon of our name-lights. We call out with love in the edges of our voices. We call him with the swaying of our bodies, the beating of our hooves. We call him with bright strands of eerie, backwards music. We call him in a great cluster of friends and acquaintences, his family and his lover. We call him because we must; We call him because it is right; We call him because we want to see our giant back. We gather together, lift our heads to the sky, and call him. We call to see him home.
((Yeah, it's totally premature, but it came to me so here it is. I'll add more if there's more to add.))
Bookmarking comment so I can
My pleasure ^^
(No subject)