The flaring sun beats omnipotent fists upon the staring earth, the earth encrusted with layers of boredom and dulled with repetition. Whatever so lovely, whatever green, overtaken, overburdened, with whatever lonely, whatever paleness. The horizon specked with starving senile vultures, peeling eyes searching for the minutest hint of rejuvenation, of interest, of happiness. None found, bird meets ground. Carcasses rotting, yet there is no soil to absorb nutrients; life is eroded into wind and dust, swirling in the vacuum of my mind. The land is devoid of inspiration, the water of life; nothing left but driest gullies, shameless canyons carved with once fertile flowing freshness and fullness, now reflecting the sky’s relentless gaze with a tenacity of its own.
This tenacity is built, is shaped, is molded by my own mind. What has happened?
…what has not happened?
© David Lui, 2017. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to David Lui and Shore of Sanity with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.