Seeing my world in turmoil and change, I remember and visualize fallen trees in a forest nearby. Colossi, hidden from sight in tall grass—laying in deep slumber and depressions, all awaiting a special day of resurrected purpose.
After seasons of waiting, black bark; dried by sun and rain, cracked and separated to expose the soft pulp beneath. It seemed to offer itself as a sacrifice for an awaited spark that would bring new life into existence and awaken dormant giants.
Unbidden, this hint of fire came to rest on this ready tender; now springing to life with purpose, the woods glowed white-hot while flaming tentacles pierced night skies—arms reaching for stars—earthbound and marching.
Grass, dry from arid days, withered in an instant and leaned in to feed the flames, as if kneeling in supplication—precious little sacrifice for a greater good now in motion. Ashes on the ground, acrid smoke, and groaning timbers all gave testimony of surroundings being laid to waste, as winds-of-change carried the conflagration to neighboring plots, spreading embers and sparks in search of giants lying in wait for waking . . .
Excerpt from the book, “ENOUGH say their names.”
