and all was quiet. all was quiet.
pieces strewn across the indifferent plane.
the world turned, unmindful of the tragedy;
of this, the breaking, this, the shattering,
the wrongful death of another in creation.
so blood flowed, the oozing of a delicate fruit,
saturating the ancient soil of abel, the slain.
it awakened echoes, the forgotten clamorings
the memories of a plea yet unfulfilled,
screaming to the heavens, avenge us!
but the sky reacted with ebullient dormancy.
it was silenced. laying silent, inept, grossly impotent.
and the violent rage of the earth cannot stir it.
and the beating of its bleeding heart will not move it.
so it waits again, for another millenea perchance,
in desperate hope that his master will soon awake.