This is something I wrote sometime ago because one of my friends dad told me to write something that had never been written before, so I thought and thought, I decided to take everything we know to be true and change it. Then I decided (on accident) to write it poeticly. That was dumb of me. it has been insanely hard to write and it takes me forever to keep it going. Some of you may be wondering why I posted it.. because I was asked to. that is my answer. The story: Awake Awake The time has past Another year has come at last Once again we shall rise Until the point again we die Time to hunt Time to pray Time to find the way to stay For years long past we have cried The froth that stays for us to die Swirls of darkness entangle the light, destroying the day to bring the night. Grabbing, stealing, pulling, and filling, black encompasses the white. A shining sphere drains and a glowing globe is filled. Streaking the sky speeding along, the stars suddenly stop to set their proper place. “Mama! Mama! The world is new can I play?” “The shadow has fallen, the world is dangerous the froth is out. Stay. Climb inside safe, warm, and alive.” Within he climbed the molten glow of his person crooked and unshaped, one form in the center and the others not connected, smaller, and round about. A score of fingerless hands reached through the space, while a quarter of a dozen of differently sized feet moved at an even pace. The walls were firm and jagged, then oozed and went smooth, stopped and started again. Once he slipped on un-textured surface, fell, and returned to his base. Clippity- itidy- ity the sound of feet on rock, and suddenly it would stop and a soft squish would commence. These things Castar would not notice, normal was a word unheard of. Walking, walking, floating, falling, walking, slipping, sliding, striding, flying, falling, again and again in a whirlpool of confusion. Rock was nothing and nothing was rock, unsettled, un-built, re-creating itself, and put still. Deeper and Deeper he went down, into a place where he could not be found. The froth was about; nothing was safe, nothing was happy, yet nothing would pout. A yellow leaf formed from tip to stem, following it a jagged limb grew. It grew and grew and grew leaves then branches. A trunk formed beneath the ball of leaves, from the stump roots slid into the earth. The leaves turned green, then would fall, but stop before the ground. From the leaf a thick yellow liquid would poor up, to the ceiling, through the ceiling. Pouring, pouring, always pouring. Hands without arms would guide Castar. And feet without legs would be the carriers. Following an endless trail leading to nothing. But morning would come and with the morning the sun, with the sun a light to tear through the darkness. How did he know? The trees the trees, they grew before the sphere, the yellow that was what made the sun. From the hollows of his center stone he saw the sun filled. Darkness was still around but that would change soon, it was almost there, almost, closer, and closer. There! Light broke in small shafts growing till the black was gone. The moon shattered and fell to the ground, and the stars gently fell to find a place they could not be found. He was free again, as free as the world, the world where the froth could not be found. Wait! He was stuck, he could not get away, it would soon be better, the earth went soft, and his foot came out as he may. Tonight I pray for inspiration