Solidarity

A stone is born from the ice and is formed into a man. Unfinished.

My flesh is frozen clay molded by the tongues of a fire centuries old.

 

Before I existed in this sentient form, coated in the skin of man, I was potential energy bound inside a mass of atoms, stiffened by frigid air and the artic breeze. I lazily reclined as best I could inside my sedimentary shell, and stirred not when the abysmal ice entombed my home. Solidarity would perfect the process of thought, and as the ice around me liquified, I became aware that I was no longer a solitary prescence in the artic desert.

 

I spring from my temporary grave, and a wave of discomfort cascades through me. I am unfamiliar with the deafening heat of the sun. The dramatic change causes hesitation, and I am buried beneath the tumbling waters of a newborn river. The whiteout world of winter that claims my childhood is now an evolving monster that will claim my metamorphosis into an adolescent.

 

Thrown about as a mere speck amongst the vast gathering of rocksand small stones tumbling about, I am coerced into a world I do not know. Though this water is comfortable and cold, the motion of it is an unprecedented experience and the shock and surprise negates my critical thinking. I am unconscious and traveling into the great blue unknown.

 

I wake from my comatose slumber to a new world. I am here. Others are here. Darkness is here. I am beginning to deny the gift of birth and accept the idea of painful abandoment. The time I have spent in these angry waters is unknown, both by myself and the water from which I have now been shunned. I lay silent and still on a bank of stones similar to yet unlike myself.

 

We all are, and are not, alike. Here,in the perfect pitch black, we wait for an eternity to breathe. When eternity is over, we have felt the world around us heaving and tossing and turning. Vomiting fire and smoke, spewing ash in all directions.

 

The light of the world that I no longer know begins to emerge first in cloudlike bursts. A beam here or there that  dissipates into nothingness in mere seconds. This happens for the longest amount of time. I become used to the occurence and begin to look forward to it. My only source of solace amid my permanent wait in this nocturnal world will grow into my violent death, and later, my rebirth.

 

The electric clouds I bare reluctant yet hopeful witness to is the first breath of fresh air for a beast slumbering around me. His waking inhales are heard but not recognized, and the soft lighting of the breeze brings tranquility. Beneath the comfort lies tension and hatred. A thunderous heaving grows to replace the peace therein, and what little comfort I recieve from the respiratory phenomena begins to escape me.

 

My existance is an impermanent obstacle in the belly of the beast.

 

The lightest breeze becomes a quasar of anger, ripping the void apart with fire. Through the startled walls and never ending crevices it comes, like the fiery bowels of a gutted devil, spilling out into the world. I watch the hellish liquid consume all around me and I know that I will die here.

Author's Note

Ignore any sentence structure problems or anything of that sort.
I don't remember any of my literary course from high school and haven't picked a school yet. =)