Its shadow slipped over the land, temporarily painting the fields in black. An almighty silhouette silenced the world with frozen awe, blocking out the sun as they searched above For the thing that’s smothered their world into darkness, Too untimely to be the night chasing away the glow of the sun.
What is this thing, this platform above? How does it glide so much higher than even the bravest of raptors? What seems to be made of hulking stone scuds past without the slightest of sounds, Like a wisp of cloud blown with ease by the summer breeze. And how does it not fall apart, eroding and collapsing onto the life on the surface below For it looks to have been hewn from the very ground itself, then cast up into the sky to watch from above. Where lies the chasm in which is once sat? Does a hole the size of a mountain lay gaping for what once belonged, like a fish at the absence of water’s flow?
How can we, who live below, ever hope to see what lies atop this mammoth platform? What does it look like? Are there fields or a city bathed in the golden rays of the sun? Do people live there? Skins glowing darker in the shades of sun-kissed tones, or do they hide inside away from the strengthened beams. How can the burning questions of those who search the skies from the ground Ever be answered without the knowledge of someone who has seen it all.
Perhaps, opposed to them all, it is merely just the shell of a world- no longer inhabited but cursed to float up there in solitude, With no way to return to its rocky bed below, where it once sat on the surface but then rose to rule above. Like the isolated life of those who rise to the throne watch and remember what they left behind But have to stay their course for the fortune of those they cared for before, Does this floating fortress ever long for return to the surface world below? Or, is it content to regard the view from its detached position far up above?
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