From adventofreason’s Xanga Archives . . .
|The last days of magic were upon us.
The trees no longer sang and the stars no longer whispered their secrets soft and low into our ears. The the divine goddesses whom we had worshiped for so long, had turned their golden faces from us and crushed our prayers beneath their heels. We watched as the stars fell from the sky and the moon hung her head in misery. Our tears left our faces wet and our eyes red with grief. No longer the chosen. No longer the loved.
One by one, we stood in silence, effigies of our previous lives. The winds no longer moved our hair, but instead carved time upon our cheeks. The flowers, denuded of their petaled poetry, turned their faces to the earth and the leaves once full of life, fell at our stony feet.
We stand, silent sentinels of a time when magic wove its way through our very veins.