The Beast.

It came and pounded down from the ominous clouds above, thundering as it crashed to the ground.

A beast of need. A beast of lustful ice.

”Let it be, let it be’ it roared, as it evolved, shaking with waves of immortality.

It flashed and rippled into a puddle of nausea, sweeping across the land in a thunderous motion of disease.

It surrenders all of itself to the tremendous osculation in the turbulence of life. Ricocheting off of all that is and will be.

What will happen now that the beast is free? It could burn the living hearts of all of creation. It could freeze the hearts of the many, stumbling across the old brick road of forgotten memories.

Now fly young children, fly. Let the Legion free. It is time to succumb to a certain figurine of destiny.

What is it I shall face? Can we have faith in the unknown, creating new footprints in the sand?

Set me free. So mote it be.

But it shall not last. Gradually becoming a whisper in the wind. Withering and dying, fragmenting precariously into the breeze.

But what we foresaw in the glimmering ruby eyes of the beast, shall forever burn within.

©  INFJ 01/2017

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