Lagarth

ー星の万華鏡ー
up above

a kaleidoscope drifted in on rippling wings, and reached out to the sun as it circled through the void.

"Fair sun," said he, "Pray let me dip my ladle, grant me only the outskirts, the sheddings of your exertion."

The sun's silent burning was the only reply. He danced in suspension.

His arms outstretched, his body weightless, liquid.
On particle wind he would glide, for days, eons, but the farther he grasped, the more distant that glowing orb became.

Time slipped backwards like cycling tide, and melted away.

In the vast void, he drifted, alone.

He closed his eyes, and held out his hands, and left his fate to faith.

ー時は立つー
time passes

and a heat forms in his hands, a dull and terrifying burning, like a glimpse of forbidden longing.

He opens his eyes.

A starling, a bit of change, a moment of the universe, hovers above his palms, searing, shining brightly and soft.

His vision blurs.

He gasps for breath.

The mote of starlight in his fists, he snatches up into a glass globe, and closes it shut, and holds it tightly.
Before his eyes it drifts, this little lantern, this little light. A finger of flame caught in a moment, frozen in splendour.

ー時を超えるー
across the ages

this flame will be his. It lights his way, it guides him.

He mocks the silent sun, and turns from its radiance, and leaves it behind.

ーその時までー
Until the ebb of time draws him back to the fire once more.