Crawling through the mud with calloused hands groping for anything to push forward. Tearing over rough bark, exposed skin is left torn, and hot red gold spills, staining the crystal pools that collected from the falling ocean.
Stars in the eyes reflecting stars above, and catching salty tears that invade the homes of ants below. Frozen breath is pushed out, forming small clouds of words left unsaid, unheard, unwanted.
Fingers feel for the pulse of the earth, no longer hoping for survival, but just to be reunited with nature. The wind sings a deathly lullaby and soon only an empty shell is left where a soul once lived.