Post by Caulder Melhaire on Nov 2, 2020 19:55:12 GMT -6
Are you.... an apple?
Secrets, worlds, and images flow within me, divided from one another yet all a part of what makes me whole. I willingly give my knowledge to curious fingers, though it remains forever bound to my spine.
(I hope I did this right. It's so hard not to write a riddle)
I dream of being the sun as I feast, but I am very small, illuminating a few feet of earthbound night. I spit my essence into the dark, hoping, and at last, I catch hold of a stray wind-tossed leaf, and I am free, stretching out under the sun, devouring the earth that holds me captive.
When I was born, people clamored to get me and paid lots of money. At my height, though, I was cheaper so that more people could get me. Children laughed as they pressed my buttons and watched colorful images dance across the screen. Now, I'm considered old. "Retro," I guess the word is. Some still love me, but multiple generations of my successors have passed.
You're an Atari? A Nintendo! LOL, maybe an old Zenith television without a remote control. Ah, memories.
Okay, here goes:
It's no fun being empty. The taste of stale air fills my belly, and I long to be filled. If I could only tell you how joyful I feel when you open the door, and your hand reaches into the dark, and you choose me. Me! Then at last comes the sweet cold liquid filling me up from the inside, the foam that fizzes and overflows, and the touch of your lips.
Aw! You're a hand-knitted scarf! Or blanket! Or sweater!
It takes eons for me to think a thought, up here where the air runs thin. The claws of the wind and the bite of snow scar my ancient face. Eagles nest in the crevices of my skin. Determined little humans imagine they conquer me with their ropes and scrabbling feet, but I am the champion supreme: when their bones are dust, still will I stand, glowering over the plain and thinking my slow thoughts, answers to questions they never asked.
Post by Caulder Melhaire on Mar 1, 2021 20:15:05 GMT -6
You are a mountain! I think.
Through the fabric I dive like a swimmer. Through and under beneath an unnatural gorge; through and over across a jagged rift. When I reach the far shore, I give my tail a mighty pull and seal the way shut.
Your attempts to harness me are a joke. You think you catch me, but you don't. I move without ceasing, even when I sleep, a gentle caress of breath on your cheek. There is no accounting for my tantrums when I am roused, but I do not stop raging until towns and trees are laid waste, then I settle with a sigh.