To be stopped and once again revived, the mind is not as patient as the heart. Hope is more comforting than intelligence when struck by a poison dart. During the wait to be brought back to life there are a few things that just make you wonder.. Is each minute a funeral march to the grave or a brave stride towards a rightful destiny? I should hate to lose myself in the fulfillment of an untold prophecy. Regardless, I lie here, awaiting my calling. A century long slumber, in a haze between flying and falling.
© Abirami
THE OBSESSIVE WRITER 