Yamamoto
10-03-2007, 09:26 AM
34 degrees
A thick blanket
Of a dark and dusty mist
Black like shadow
Smothering, looming,
Grasping my throat, as I gasped for air
Enveloped amongst the smoky darkness
Black like the tall trees
Once, green, tall and towering,
Now, black, flaking, wrapped by dancing orange hues
Dancing, crackling,
Jumping from branch to branch
Branch to ground
Ground to walls
Of ancient, wooden ebony
Roaring, growing
Charred and disintegrating
The scorching heat of crimson
Surrounded by the blinding glow
Under that looming black abyss
I stay, no, am stuck amongst the closing circle
Closing, reaching
Drowning in that gold and crimson sea
Reaching.
A mysterious figure steps in, amongst the black sea of smoke
An alien, immune to the biting flares of that gold and crimson sea
Breaking the circle, a hand reaching
No face, as I, instead, just stare back at a smoky image of myself
Saved.
Still coughing, gasping,
For now cleaner air
The black cloud still lingers, looming
That crimson sea, dancing, jumping
Crackling,
Yet now accompanied by cool jets of water.
No face, he stares back
As I stare at a smoky image of myself.
The mysterious alien.
The hero.
He takes off his helmet.
A thick blanket
Of a dark and dusty mist
Black like shadow
Smothering, looming,
Grasping my throat, as I gasped for air
Enveloped amongst the smoky darkness
Black like the tall trees
Once, green, tall and towering,
Now, black, flaking, wrapped by dancing orange hues
Dancing, crackling,
Jumping from branch to branch
Branch to ground
Ground to walls
Of ancient, wooden ebony
Roaring, growing
Charred and disintegrating
The scorching heat of crimson
Surrounded by the blinding glow
Under that looming black abyss
I stay, no, am stuck amongst the closing circle
Closing, reaching
Drowning in that gold and crimson sea
Reaching.
A mysterious figure steps in, amongst the black sea of smoke
An alien, immune to the biting flares of that gold and crimson sea
Breaking the circle, a hand reaching
No face, as I, instead, just stare back at a smoky image of myself
Saved.
Still coughing, gasping,
For now cleaner air
The black cloud still lingers, looming
That crimson sea, dancing, jumping
Crackling,
Yet now accompanied by cool jets of water.
No face, he stares back
As I stare at a smoky image of myself.
The mysterious alien.
The hero.
He takes off his helmet.