The ocean is incredibly small.
Giant, mutated hills with downward stares, making a mockery of the blue.
Primitive, organic comrades. Made rivals by a younger cosmic aftershock.
One finally conquered by the other.
The hills stand, heavy with fabricated influence.
Their time is approaching soon.
Blue stays, only swayed by distant relativity that which is the wind; acting as a team, never won over by this frequent, particular guest.
Never conquered.
Until now.
Who was the threat? Who won?
Who will win?
In this bland, yet terrifying domain.
Potentially real.
Intricate designs disappear after awhile, do they return?
Where is a cause when the effect's are so obvious and loud?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment