While the man slept,
His soul extracted from the host that kept him grounded.
Surrounded by ambivalence, his innocence unbearably wept,
Exempt from all bewildering chaos,
His flesh bled with confusion,
Lack of control subjected him to death.
A lifeless vessel placed on a table of traps,
Balancing on the coin of chance,
Fate watched as destiny flipped the coin once more.
For a brief second, the chance of a head start on the tales of life were left to the balancing hands of scepticism.
Pull back, it was never about the physical anyway.
Reminded how important she is to sanity,
Soul bat her lashes at the unconscious.
Her confidence increased as heirs of unprecedented realms pleaded her attention in desperation.
She roamed through field of fulfilling prophecies, and with each vision her skin glistened.
The importance she was made to feel blinded her sight.
She was growing attachments to the walls of ‘could be’ whilst walking barefoot on the concrete of ‘has been’.
Like a fairy-tale, she indulged in the pleasures of the moment,
Falsely noticing that for a moment she crawled back to the he, whose ribs she was taken from.
They became one.
His peace became her worry.
As her worries escalated, He grew conscious. Awaken from sleep he realized his agenda was packed with befitting distraction. Not worthy of his attention but compulsory for his stabilization into the world of maturity.
He thirsts for the desires of his soul.
An appetite wet by the food of his soul.