Part Eyth

The little lions wake up early this morning.
They see a bull standing near the pool.
The bull’s call is starting to attract attention, but he has to be a formidable warrior to rally the full support of the herd.
These little hunter’s eyes take it all in as the hunt begins.

It is a dream, it is a nightmare. It is all things. It is the very display of clutching on to life.

It’s Flashbackmonday today, and I’m praying to the thunder god. I’m his avatar in this realm of existence, everywhere I go lightning strikes and rain washes away the wrinkles of long forgotten pain. This is but a sample of his divine powers, yet I wield it with such determined accuracy that many would dare to question my spiritual alliance.

Away with ‘Rebecca’, she has other duties in store for her. Away with all material things, they only slow you down. Away with the lion’s hunt, that’s not Grandfather Thunder’s concern. It crumbles all when I am near.

Only the weak glow of the moon can put me to sleep, an everlasting sleep where I join the bears in their methuselahian slumber. We will only open our eyes when girls stop crying over lost love, and boys freely talk about their feelings. Then we will laugh and cuddle (like bears do) and announce the coming of Mictlantecuthli, the playful skeleton. He will broadcast a special on the many uses of beans. ‘cause beans are great.

Have a spoonful of Astrakan caviar and look out the window. Do you see the black clouds? Can you hear the thunder roaring in the distance? I’m coming your way.