Saturday, February 18, 2017

An eve turns a day turns an eve

It is queer I think that this journey south I take would would make my skin tingle with night's cool breath. This fire that dances before me is again my security and my warmth. I stretch out my hands and feel the touch of life itself. Fire is life; and death. I bask within its glow and feel the moisture bubble across my face. Should I not be warm in these southern reaches even as the night calls to me?

I look skyward into the blackness of the heavens. The lights of the firmament seem to shimmer against their curtain. Do they have a purpose? Do I have a purpose? I look down again as a spark flees its prison, the pop of wood rising above the quiet crackle as my sticks surrender to their fate. It is their purpose to give me light and safety this night.

The daylight hours which guide my steps have begun to lessen in their wonderment. Those vistas that excited even in my dreams no longer tantalize. They mesh one into another as each day is stitched to the next. Even my nighttime dreams are stilted. They seem as desolate at the firmament.

I look ahead past the fire's light and know the path that I will walk this next morn. To my right the Sirris no longer beckons. My day passes to eve and once again since my departure from Authurn. He has a purpose in these lands. Perhaps I shall find my own in the coming days.


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