Sketch Book

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: May 06, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: May 06, 2018



Once, upon,

with a flame sparked menace of language, a fire crisped away at the foot-step threshold of an old and ignored tree, awakening dominantly the tinder, pent up forgiveness of flash-burnt re-growth breeze.

The flame spoke,"I have drawn forth with good-humor, your story telling and story-reading observations;loathe-some banquet occasions of ill-directed imagination, attempting to set fire toward the roots of my unprofitable pencil purpose."

The Tree bent down, tickled to laughter by the pursued art of its solitude, which had been checked and chilled by this creature of resilience, expanding a riot of vague opportunity; awaiting to burn away at something far more decorated than itself.

As the flame recoiled, recollected and resolved its own self purpose, the Heavens opened up. 

The Rains fall.

The Tree laughs.

The Flame recedes.

The Forest grows.

Fire, going away, becomes boring.

The one, stayed true, keeping its place.

Once, there was a tree.

Nothing else mattered, as the water fell.

Beautiful rain,

fell down,

upon. Once.





© Copyright 2018 Dr. Acula. All rights reserved.

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