i found out how to fly a soul. i knew the twists i knew the turns. there wasnt much else for me to learn. when i dropped the map, i wound up here. the age-old desert, between danger and uncertainty. danger is uncertain and uncertainty is dangerous. but with the sand in my eyes and the heat on my skin, i never put much thought into this limbo i call home.
what is a home but a place you rest? what is rest without peace? what is peace without chaos? what is chaos without peace?
nothing.
so thats what im left with. searching this sand for a neon sign. some way to show an oasis is near. or maybe just a drop, a neon sign is all i need. a faint memory remains, of those wings spread so wide. the fire that burned below, not of destruction nor hate. a fire that burns of the better days, a fire that burns in my heart. a fire always fed by the heat of this sun. this sun, this sun, this blinding, burning sun. asleep before its gone. asleep when it returns. im not the one who went to the moon. and if i was, i wont return soon. there's not much i remember about life before death. but i know it was well-worth forgetting. flashbacks dont show you things to come. and their words, swiftly coming undone. not a note of the song, not a page in a book, is stored in the head of this being im in. just a pile of sand, with the desert augmenting it everyday.
the thoughts in this head are shifting ever so slightly. just enough to not see straight, small enough to fool a bug. a bug smaller than i does not exist. sand is big sand is dry. these words are drifting, and soon am i.