— windy days —
the air, restless and rushing to encircle the globe in an endless race. dead leaves danced in circles and chased after the air, as if they were the key to restoring them to the glorious emeralds they once were. dust sought asylum in the edges of our eyes and in the wrinkles of our clothes. we swayed to the tune the currents sang.
the sky shook with uncontrollable tears. its sobs wreaked the most terrible noises onto the earth that resounded in the listeners. the only light the once gratifying heavens above graced them with were quick flashes that licked against the mourning ceiling. the earth caught the sky’s tears, caressing them in its little crannies and returning them to the sea; the tear ducts of the sky.
it was as though the ozone layer decided to abandon humanity and leave nothing but the furious sun; unforgiving to the humans and bringing them punishment that seemed to be a fraction of what the apocalypse would bring.
the waves meekly reached out to the shore, then quickly retracted its tentative fingers. this cycle repeated itself, though its meekness seemed extraneous. this is but one part of the ocean, one time. at another, the waves extend its strong fingers as though preparing to extract the earth itself and submerge it into its immensity.