Awakening

In twilight he rises, dead and heartless among mountains of Tombstones which stretch to every horizon.

His porcelain cracked skin stained gray, the heatless hole in his chest black.

He is a dead thing, once intimately known to life.

From far away, beyond horizons his heart calls. Yearning, screaming to come home.

So he searched, letting the faint pull guide him. The days did not change, the black sky remained. The winds are scarce and they howl so horribly.

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Tombstones great and small dot all paths near and far. None else can be found here.

The heartless knew no time nor memory. Only empty hunger and persistent beckoning.

He had no mind to lose no sanity, no true sense of self.

Yet he learns, learns that the world is a graveyard within an impossibly encompassing cave. A peculiar fact he discovers from a falling mountain. But no matter how large, no matter how far, nothing is forever. And in time he meets a greater darkness, a tunnel leading to what's unknown.

He's come far, all the way accompanied by the echoing howls of the cavernous winds.

Without thought he continues to walk naked, alone. His empty eye sockets showed a kinship with the potent darkness.

Standing there, he is reluctant to leave but does not know why. Glancing back at the fields of tombstones he felt an indescribable pain. A loss almost as great as his heart. But the call of beckoning whispers proved greater. Embraced by this more potent darkness the dreary walk seemed to have come to a hurried end.