the high priestess [va]

[Rose]

an eternal fog dallies here. shadows lurk. trees twist to the skies, gnarled and old and of long-forgotten nightmares. the croaking of non-existent frogs fills the air. the pop of bubbles on a swamp not so far off. a round, granite basin, filled with clear water to drink, for anything and everything needs sustenance.

a cave, once thought to be unoccupied, houses residents. hm, perhaps the plural does not fit here. within its stone walls rests a being. a single creature. forgotten like the tales it once told, or not? this isolation is not a tragedy. it is a choice, and one not poorly made. call it childish, call it wisdom, living all alone in a land that is not stars, earth, or dark. but who knows? surely not you and i. we live a simple life. birth, life, death. in some cases we rise from the dead. resurrection and reincarnation. but these are just ideas, are they not? figments of imagination.

past, present, future, it all runs free.

past.

present.

future.

it runs free, with nothing to curve and weave it's waters into a correct fate. except one. a sole being, with no power but the endless wisdom of watching. it stares, at the measly life many cling to. now the creature sits within its obsidian cave walls, humming a tune for all those who will listen.

it waits, sitting still as the stone that surrounds it, for it knows something, or someone, will come to see it in due time.