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Oct 2017
The cold seems to creep in. It gathers at the folds of fall and sends crisp crackles down splintered spines. Things gain a sense of urgency, the wind whips with more ferocity and graves are left to lay away as they decompose like the bodies held inside, where spooky stories tend to thrive and people wonder. They wonder just when the world began to change. Just when shots began firing in cluttered squares, where man decided that the decision of life was their's, to gather in. Just when did man decide that the grave was home to his fellow mankind. The earth rests in commotion, in question, in fear it hides.

But the world knows. The earth can feel chaos in it's bones and breaths in peace real deep. It sets it's children out on quivering feet and whispers: "find freedom and peace to be what is meant to be." So the world walks. The wind howls and leaves fall softly to the wilting ground as nature crawls and yawns and bows to seek....rest. The streams and rivers flow deep and cool, they set a path for wounds to heal, oceans deep and mountain glen - reminding the sky to set peace down upon this wilted ground, again.

So thunder strikes and fire crashes, a tapestry of sunset skies. Man once again feels life behind his closing eyes, and winks. Winks and sees fresh covered ground, a white silk blanket set upon earthen crowns. Crows hollowed caw is set in rest and heralds in peace that is blessed.

The world sinks deeply into sleep, lullabying softly "be at peace, be at peace," and so the earth rests in hibernatious slumber, and boys become men and begin to wonder what is left for them in a world that has already been discovered.

"Peace, find peace," is all that is muttered. So they keep wondering.
Alex Greenwell
Written by
Alex Greenwell  19/M/Utah
(19/M/Utah)   
  304
   Irene Poole and Glass
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