Fucksters

The murmur of silence awakens. Did my delicate probing sooth the dragon? Or was an ember left to disintegrate my faults, letting the the rhythm of myth relocate its influence? A troubled scholar approaches my cavern and taps a smothered beat to signify awareness. I approach him, embarking on a journey from the shadows, one that hints at light, assumes its presence beyond a divine firmament. Dripping of the faucet of life, my body puddles above the ground, my mind surrounds it, encases it, protects it. I am aware of the bright traveler's vest, encoded with the Sun and the Moon on each breast, it begins to peal off, becoming the ground on which it lands. What is left is a furnace, a fiery liberator heating the land, surpassing the natural form, freeing the essence. My life force begins to evaporate, nimbus drenching the fire from which it gave birth. The synthesis is complete, two forms existing as one and all and timelessly nothing.