The earth mother

The force beneath every single atom is being pulled throughout the entirety of a single blow. The rest of the troop marched unaware of what awaits just behind that hill, their enemy lays low. The masquerade of doubt dancing in sync, mocking the story of life and death. Performing for a girl who sat there praised for lies, she whispers underneath her breath. Ombre came and bowed before the saints that formed with greed upon people once they talked. They all watched the innocent walking up the hill falling to the embrace of the waves, cold, scared and lonely they walked.

World, so many things happen. The noise that It produces, in such a silent and obscure atmosphere. To each their stories, to each their struggles, and to each their lives. A lot feel connected, belonging to something, someone, somewhere. Yet, the halt only works when at the bottom of things. The realization that loneliness exists, that sorrow and hollowness are dreadful, but only when this etiquette called anxiety or depression hit. Selfishness, because you forbid the soul from being aware until you fall because of an instant, or a person, or something that the universe has thrown at you. You embrace, you hold on, you even make a routine of it, yet, you do the most human thing you can, 'move on' those two words that humans seem to grab onto every time something happens. The soul differs from whatever It is. It looks, and even overlooks. The brain, the heart, the feelings aren't connected to it, nothing is, It floats and It sees what the conscious is doing to the human vehicle It is occupying.