Nov
26
“WHY?” he wonders.
The world waits while they waste away. One worried, one with wanderlust. He watches water wind westward, wishes he could capture its certainty. Catch its content curling. He can’t. All the while, His workings whir. And when His wit waxes whimsical, his cover keeps carved. Concrete curtains closed.
Wind whispers, warbles through willows and wormholes. Does He will it? The quiet carol comes for him, caresses and comforts him. Can he let it? He comes close but his core cuts that, kills it. Calibrated kernel’s chill. He can’t keep kindled. Can’t counter the clicking, cutting calculations in his cortex.
“cause,” He closes.
