Encased in ancient rock. Gnarled and twisted stand primordial spears, slanted to the sky. To Cast Down The Sun the Forest of Gallows calls from a depth unfathomable. Drowning and dragging to wash me away.
As the noose embraces my neck, I won’t be afraid the last time I look at this wondrously grotesque place. My hands start to shake, plummeting to the ground. I become awe struck by the lack of sound. Surely I can’t hear, myself drifting as autumn leaves along this blackened landscape.
Yet through the fury of the wind I shall walk again. To embrace new hope is to live.
For I have left the past the future. Grisly memoirs sing only of darkness. A thousand faces piercing my soul. Dragging me down, only to hang. Saturating me in fire. Through my fingertips. Nebulae dilate within my eyes.
In the distance a tower of slate.
This forest becomes my hourglass devoid of leaves, devoid of sand. As I fade away, beneath these limbs. I won’t be afraid to see, to breathe, to Cast Down The Sun. A revelation.