Why We Stare

What is this? Why does it stare at me?

Its eyes mull over, as if in a trance. Alone and not yet broken. Unaccompanied by its kind. Clearly welcomed by no one. The subject of inclusion stained and discarded. Encompassed by burning embers.

Do you need me?

Not a soul to claim it. The reality of reality. The pinkness of a bantling. Is there something more?

The breath of hunger. The thirst for foundation. It rolls over and breaks for the marshland. Are you, too, starved?

Sad and bendable, it crawls. Its lack of direction exposed . The heat pulls away its innocence as the arms of fire converge. Are these, too, familiar to you?

What is this?

Do you know where you are? Will the wooden trusses of time release the stars above? Are you, too, aware of wet tears?

The nature of its crawling . How magnificent and odd. How slow and how rhythmic. Is horror a close friend of yours?

Please stay.

Your destination is known.

To stare is to be.

Does your smile match my own? The air is burdensome. The terrain cowardly and afraid. Yet it presses on towards the marshland.

What is this?

It calls out, only to kiss the reality of abandonment. Its tears are screaming now. Will it ever be found? Why, then, does it stare? As it crawls, I follow. Determination for another day.

Please say you need me.

So hungry. It makes for a ravishing meal. Its skin already cauterized and charred.

Where are you going?

Please stay. Your destination is known. You cannot go that way.

What is this?

The thirst and hunger seek deliverance. The crawling continues. Into the marsh and weeds it goes. Is there something more?

What is this?

Two front, two back . Its pink extremities vulnerable and delicious. The flames beat louder, summoning it to the dark Adam's ale. What are you?

What are you?

The flames begin their trance. The wood trusses moan and crackle. The eyes of the stars dwindle. The mouth of horror smiles. Your crawling is futile. Your struggle is beautiful. The weeds that once supported the spring flowers now fail you.

Don’t you need me?

The reason for your staring is here. Please stay. The fumes grow higher. Alone and broken. Your crawling has brought you to the black, cold water. Exhaustion calling, you are engulfed in darkness. I see now. Your smile will never match my own.

There. Among the tree line.

The dance of shadows burst through the woods. The hot flames will burn on and on. I turn to leave, shaking the ashes off my wings as I go. So hungry. The ground is scared, almost confused as to what its role will be tomorrow. The wooden trusses slowly lift up the sky again. The flares of the inferno seem to tease and tempt the stars above. Where will the wildfire take me this time I wonder.

But what is this?

The flames that were once slumped over now stand tall. These flames welcome a new creature emerging from the murky abyss. This is something more.

This is why you stared.

Your smile matches my own. Your dragon heart calls to the rhythm of the flames. Where there was once pinkness and innocence, there are now scales and teeth carved from the luscious swamp floor.

Do you need me? Yes.

Is there something more? No longer.

What is this? The trial of a newborn.