It’s me and the animals. Their growls, their pawns, their scars… The fear in their eyes as the solid white round moon above announces the end of us.
It’s me and the darkness now, like lovers blindly looking at each other, feeling one another like lost animals. The silence is so immense I could even hear my heartbeats. If only I wanted to.
Alone for the very first time, I acknowledge the simple and undeniable truths of silence, and open my ears to many other mysterious sounds I never knew existed. It is only there and then, in the depths of my own absolute calm, that I am finally able to hear her; she has the most beautiful voice in the entire world.
I imagine her golden hair gleaming at the night, her soft skin healing my fingertips, her burning eyes. But she will never be the same in every thought; in my dreams she’s always changing. Every time I open my eyes again my memory of her will be gone in a second. Every time I wake up from a dream the animals are still there, they feed from my memories, they crave on the images I keep of her.
It’s her and the elements, her terrible way of telling the moon she is never coming back. The rain falling over the burning fields, as if to break fire into little pieces. The fury in every flame coming flickering back and forth, threatening to burn both of us from the inside.
It’s us and the other beasts, growling forever, our eyes and their eyes fixed in some random point in the distance. The fear in our eyes as we tell the moon that it’s the end of us.