Alone, again.
Soltero awaited the birth of starlight with stillness, the luminiferous glow of moonlight to pierce a veil of coming darkness. It was late evening when the traveller ceased his movements, trailing to a halt at the lake's undulating edge - a single, creased leaf would float tenuously over the surface, carried away upon a slow, invisible current. Something he was reminded of, in this lonesome embrace, was the peace of solitude. The seclusion - a quiet that settled in his bones. Of course, there was no doubting his yearning for a friend to confide in, his mother, with her playful sarcasm, or even Ruenna, with her kind smile; neither were here, and he was alone, but perhaps for the better.
He had made a mistake. He might be a father, to children he had never desired - their mother, a woman he did not love.
Empty.
He cast the thoughts to the side, inclining his throat down to slide a salmon tongue into the fathomless depths of the water, savouring the slither of cool liquid to slide down his throat - refreshing amongst the heat, but it failed to quench his thirst, so he pushed his weight down to the bank, resting a leathery nose upon the earth. Here, he could see his reflection dance upon the lake, shifting and flickered like an open flame; it started in stoicism back toward him, until his gaze desired to flee the intensity, and wandered instead to the line of trees ahead - there, the moon was just visible, peeking above the canopies.
Peace, or isolation?
Soltero awaited the birth of starlight with stillness, the luminiferous glow of moonlight to pierce a veil of coming darkness. It was late evening when the traveller ceased his movements, trailing to a halt at the lake's undulating edge - a single, creased leaf would float tenuously over the surface, carried away upon a slow, invisible current. Something he was reminded of, in this lonesome embrace, was the peace of solitude. The seclusion - a quiet that settled in his bones. Of course, there was no doubting his yearning for a friend to confide in, his mother, with her playful sarcasm, or even Ruenna, with her kind smile; neither were here, and he was alone, but perhaps for the better.
He had made a mistake. He might be a father, to children he had never desired - their mother, a woman he did not love.
Empty.
He cast the thoughts to the side, inclining his throat down to slide a salmon tongue into the fathomless depths of the water, savouring the slither of cool liquid to slide down his throat - refreshing amongst the heat, but it failed to quench his thirst, so he pushed his weight down to the bank, resting a leathery nose upon the earth. Here, he could see his reflection dance upon the lake, shifting and flickered like an open flame; it started in stoicism back toward him, until his gaze desired to flee the intensity, and wandered instead to the line of trees ahead - there, the moon was just visible, peeking above the canopies.
Peace, or isolation?
I tried to write your name in the rain
But the rain never came
But the rain never came
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