Mirror Darkly
Mirror Darkly
That is not dead which can eternally lie The reapers scythe doth fall
and with strange eons even death may die A raging hunger consuming all
It was darkness. It was flame. Soft shadows of the sharpest black, stark against heart red sand. A gaping wound, this landscape. With its harsh wind of screams, broken glass, and beckoning whispers, so strange this familiar alien landscape. Why is it I always have this dream? I felt a burning lash of pain as the skin of my back split like an over ripe fruit, as the muscle curled away from bone and blood ran in a burning trail down my spine. I knew it was a dream but the pain was so real so….real. Was it a claw that split my back this time? Or cruel teeth? But no…what was that heaviness? My back twitched and the heaviness moved with it. Great stretching black….wings?