I'll Find My Own Way (Open)

[Krueger]

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[/font]pprehension; though the landscape surrounding him consisted of nothing but a natural harmony - cerulean sky sparsely tinted with nebulous clouds, a stunning, peach-gold sunset, and a breeze that tasted of honey dew - Krueger found it hard to satisfy the bitter taste of isolation that stung his thoughts. He feared his own, insular spirit like a skeptic does his own shadow. Everywhere he trotted, no matter the environment, the silence tailed him, snapping hungrily at the back of his paws, coaxing him to give in to the nothing. Corresponding with his own aura, the choice of not to acknowledge the mute ambience was the initial factor that lead to his unwanted confinement. Quarantined from the spoken words, from life, even from death; to think that he was so inconspicuous that not even the dark specter of Hades bid him any time, it was shameful.

So I run and hide and tear myself up

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B[/font]ringing this sense of being alone - though he was bashful to admit to it - was really his own fault. Though he had to admit, walking amidst the orchard at such a late hour proved possible as a time to keep to his own thoughts, to ponder on life as he watched the blossoms on the trees flourish under the warm colours of the fiery horizon. It wouldn't be long until the sun would be completely blanketed by the horizon, a plethora of stars would thrust their evening glimmer on a charcoal sky, and the crescent moon - the image of God's thumbnail - would come out to father the earth with a soft glow.

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K[/font]rueger’s tawny body pitter-pattered against the condensed soil, every now and then stopping to admire the flora. If only he could be just as beautiful, just as charming as this orchard, as its life. Why would fate bestow such a hateful cruse of ugliness across his pelt? Patches of sweltered flesh burnt from flames, criss-crossed his frame and stood out like a pack of ebony wolves playing in the snow. Silently howling for his remorse, he continued his stroll through the blossoming trees, both marveling and coveting the lushness of their wooden skin.

And eyes that see into infinity

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N[/font]o hope, he thought out loud, speaking only to the wind and the earth and the sky. He liked to think that somewhere, perhaps in a heaven reaching far beyond the clouds, a god was listening to him when he spoke to the dirt, to the leaves, to the meadows. But prayer had grown into a fickle hobby as of lately, and Krueger knew that he wasn’t the only one who was inclined to dawdling around the practice. Maybe it was because there was so much trepidation and hardship and hesitation and uneasiness, so many unnerving thoughts that infected the canine land and its inhabitants; the hardships of the world were throwing stones at the hearts of the ones that had grown to lose hope, and especially at those who still stood strong. Of course, when asked of spirituality, any wolf would grin and spoke light-heartedly. Krueger was guilty of this as well. Would a god still spare him and his species the mercy if they rarely thought about even evoking such a simplistic religious ritual?

I will disappear

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H[/font]abitually, Krueger wished, hoped, prayed (how ironic), for an individual in which to confide these thoughts in. A brother, a teacher, a lover, even a curious spirit wandering amongst the world between worlds – anything would do, really, as long as he wasn’t talking with his mind, as he always did. Seclusion had defeated him, and he was hungry for the company of others. Yet at the same time, here he was, abandoning any form of civilization in order to wander amongst the remote orchard at such a strange hour. But for some reason, his was still poised as if there may be another creature amidst the dusk.
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₪ ø ιιι •o.

PLAYLIST: Two Steps From Hell - Nero
MUSE: AWESOME!
NOTES: None

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