In sands past countless miles, shimmered airs and dulling yellows vast!. A head of man there laid, as if different from rest, midst that golden grains of deserted, stranded land!. In that nothingness’ there was but a little flake of white, buried up to hollow eyes, which through once the blood had pulsed!. Now were smiling skulls!.
I howled around him little more, saw a few of grey hairs that still remained atop his forehead burned!. His eyes then opened and how they bled, in deepest crimson red!. Sad I came, as never 'fore, for I knew I was the wind that sent those shards, from shores of Pain and Sorrow, into those, mirror’s crystal souls, that mourned from start of times!.
His head had not a body, but only bare two feet there by his side, in sores that showed the ageing time!. His poor two feet were snapped above, and held by shining silver chain that forever kept him there!. Ever often so, his toes would move and wither as time like me would slither!.
He whispered then, beneath the sun that smiled as it scorched his face alive!. Words that I could hear not now, nor could I know the why, merely I was but one wind that always blew, and will forever still!.
Www@QuestionHome@Com