(untitled post)

It sits there.
My struggles
Panting and heaving.

Through the dusty air
I make out others like me--
Crouching or kneeling
Just trying to take it all in.
The end.
I don't think anyone thought it would be like this...

It was much harder than I anticipated.
The sides more equally matched.
I always thought we'd have the edge,
but looking around...

Everything hurts.
But my mind hurts just a little more than the rest of my body.
And the air is trembling from all the moaning and shrieking--
Some--ghosts of the hours past,
Others in fresh agony.

They are roving beneath us. 
I can feel them just under the surface.
Searching...
But my eyes are fixed on one--
Our struggles.

Arrogant.
It is arrogantly tired,
but he's waited a long time for this moment...
And his eyes skim the sky.

Some of us are up there.
They, too, are searching...

I tense my muscles
Just to see how it'll feel.
Not if, but when he makes his move,
And I've got to leap or roll or run or die.

Pride...
That was it, ya know?
It was his pride
That started it all.

Funny thing about pride--
When you suffer from it,
You're often to proud to realize.

There's only him right now.
But with a flap of his black bat wings
He projects, and then there are hundreds
Of struggles.

But I too have something to project,
And I've survived until this moment.
And just my presence can swing the balance.
I'm sure.

I can remember him.
Brightest of all.
Glorious.
The model of beautiful beings.
Pure and strong.
I'm remembering...

And the scorched earth of where I sit
has yet to be created.
The thought not yet entered the consciousness
of the Almighty.

There were only the few.
We knew each other well.

He knows me well--
All of my struggles.

Then I'm back.
And the light of truth is blazing in my eyes.
I've caught his attention.
His vision no longer fixed on the heavens,
But on me.

And slowly I stand,
The voice of God!
And brace myself for the assault,
But before it comes
I project
His song.
Always His song.

And the world stands still.
And the notes pierce through
The shaking air.
And the searching ends.
And the struggles seem...

Much easier to bear
While in the presence of His song--
of His word.