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I’d witnessed the anger of the flame; red, orange, yellow
colliding in pure rage. The product of a broken man; a
lost soul, who’d grown tired of searching.
I’d wished I could help. Somehow.
And so I
wept
for him.
‘
I’d let my tears pour across the valley; across the fiery
plains; ending years of suffering. I’d been selfish; I’d been
cruel; I’d been scared.
But I wasn’t anymore.
I’d watched the clusters of men emerge from the stables;
his neighbours. They’d raised their arms in salvation;
gratitude. I’d heard the cacophony of women and
children; bouts of laughter, infectious over the great land.
I’d felt great happiness as I kissed the curves of their
faces; dampened the fibres of their clothing; cured the
sickness of the land.
Which I created.
The man crosses my mind from time to time.
Each time I can’t help but weep.
Each time I let my tears roll into the rivers and through
the ocean. Purifying, cleansing, touching the souls of
many.
I’m no longer afraid; I no longer hold back.
I let my presence be known.
‘
Echoes In
My Mind
11