I come from chaos.
And I go towards a light I cannot see.
I walk through a hurricane,
directionless wandering.
Mists and rain pelt my face.
Clouds block the sun.
I have cried out for a god
to bring order,
to give form to disarray.
But even as I sometimes rest
in the eye of the storm,
in the deceptive quiet and peace,
I know that the chaos surrounds me,
and I am not beyond the walls of the hurricane
but mired deep within,
trapped on all sides
by the untamed, malevolent, furious wastes,
and no god has yet answered my cry.
My voice is but a nightmare scream,
locked behind dry clay cracked lips
of this mud-creature, golem,
half waking, half asleep.
So I walk,
and my mud, moistened, drips.
And I grasp at the wind
swirling around, hopelessly
hoping to catch hold and be swept up
and lifted away
beyond the fray.
I come from chaos,
and in chaos I remain.

08/18/2017

Author's Note: This is the first paragraph of a novel I am working on. I've broken it into lines here to play with the rhythm and rhyme. And because I felt like it lent itself to this form after writing it.

Posted on 08/18/2017
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