The howling wind whipped across the cold grass reclaimed land. It roared, intense pain cursing through its deep, holy voice. A voice it stole from him. A voice he hadn't the strength to carry anymore.
Hours stretched on, pointless hours, as he kneeled on the cold, grey earth. Nature took that from him as well. Absorbed the chill from his coated metal bones, leaving him now without both warm and cold. So that he was simply numb.
His yearly trek brought him here. No matter where his wanderings might go, on this date, he was always here. Years went by as quickly as the hours. Pointless years.
He was a man with no past. An ancient man who had not yet breathed life. Instead he fled from it. Fled to safety were life would never come. Not again. Life was cruel and unrelenting. It gripped him far longer than it was fair for either of them. There was no peace. Except here. Once a year.
He was a man with no future. Because he could not envision it. All he saw before and behind his eyelids was the past. The past that didn’t exist. For him the future was worse then the past. The future was nothing, the abyss. At least the past was pain. The future was him. Only him, sooner or later. Kneeling at this very spot.
Forever it would be. Him and the wailing wind, screaming his pain out for him. Since it was so long ago now that he lost the strength. But it would wail, on and on. And he would kneel. Year after year, before the carved white marble, extraordinarily decadent for a mere Rogue.
An Eternity By Archibald MacLeish
There is no dusk to be,
There is no dawn that was,
Only there’s now, and now,
And the wind in the grass.
Days I remember of
Now in my heart, are now;
Days that I dream will bloom
White the peach bough.
Dying shall never be
Now in the windy grass;
Now under the shooken leaves
Death never was.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
First poem. I've always thought it was sort of a happy poem but I guess my Logan disagreed. But feedback makes us both happy. :)