Prose. This is all about that, with that, without that, nothing. Nonrhythmic poetry. By Aran.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Tangent Moment
Self coercion, he had acquired the sensation of illumination. The perception had turned cloudy yet clear. The entanglement had ceased though the intense cold, the biting, devouring chill had come alive, chasing, now in pursuit. The inevitability of his death was apparent. His pace slowed, screeched to a halt. No more. And at that moment, an awakening occurred as the warmth, the resounding, reverberating hum, whisper, yell was, and became audible. Yes, the warmth became audible as the came into vision of hundreds, thousands, millions merged as one, driving back the cold chill. It was done, but only for the time being.
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