An Echo of Thought and Sound

I don't even know how to classify this one... Possibly Prose?

Mud and Water and Dirt, not keeping any shape but what you wish, calling for forgiveness and fertility.

A gust of sand billowing through the air and rushing over all surfaces and burying deep inside the cracks of files stored away for good.

A single drop of rain, falling from its home in the sky and carving a small but intracate path through the air, meeting its death on the cold pavement and slipping from existence into nothingness.

An explosion, a raging torrent of flame and inferno, eating wood and steel, so white and all consuming.

A page, lying stark cold on the drawing table, longing for a chance to break free and to believe and to discover.

Reviews

[Gheeneil]

Every little thing insinuates something. It conveys meaning that only highly "observant" minds comprehend. The sound of its voicelessness resonates through time. I like the depth of this write. Keep writing.