Work Text:
Seven stripes on a silver sky.
One who could not yet die.
A ghost; in wait, a being lost.
Yet fate will bind and god shall say.
One to watch these endless skies.
A field lies before me. An ocean to my back. The waves sing softly, of things that will yet be.
Creatures prowl and hide. A silver sky rains down on it all. Among this, the grass still grows.
I am here, and now, I am there. A great fortress of stone and steel, burgeoning out of that field, heralded by whispers on the wind.
Are they trying to build into that sky? I look to the ground. The grass still grows.
A flash of light: the fortress gone. Was it destroyed? Eroded? Lost? I do not know. The ocean still sings- yet the voice quivers. Despite this, the grass still grows.
A monolith of steel lies before me. Not a fortress, but imposing nonetheless. It seems as if it has pierced through that sky and into that which lies above.
The ocean has left; lost to the makers of this monolith. And yet, among the cracks in the machinery, the grass still grows.
A great crash, and it has fallen. Once a shining beacon, now lost to chaos. Snow has set in now, icy wings enveloping all.
Sea returns to shore, though the song remains diminished. Yet below the snow; the grass still grows.
Something rumbles in the stars. The silver sky parts, making way for that which lies above. It reaches out, and the field is no more.
A tremor in the earth, and that below flies above. It reaches out, and the ocean is no more. They meet, and now even they are naught.
Something new happens. I look up, and see a light. It comes to me, and I take it into my embrace.
A new perspective, above the sea, above the sky, and even above that.
The world is dim; I give it light. The sea is quiet; I give it song.
The field is empty, I tell the grass; “Grow.”
And now, in that field, with its back to the sea, I put a ghost.