The Bliss You Seek

The orange hues were fading, gradually grew faint as the sun rose higher in the dim sky. Yet, it was still under seven and the mist and dew were mingled, luring the lone grasses who bent in the middle of their sleep to follow the wind and sway.

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One Who Commands The Death

Its presence did not pose a threat—merely stared in silence.

As the breath of wind swung its elegant raven-black cloak, its dark lips moved—whispered, uttering one word with all the pain from a thousand blades.

In suffer, he knelt—begged for its wrath to melt.

He said ‘mercy, mercy, mercy.’.

But one’s stood still, released the sins he had committed from the look in its dreadful eyes.

Yes, he was not ready to die.