I don't feel anything. I'm holding a hand, it's still warm - filled with a rapidly waning life. I don't feel anything. It's not that I don't care. I do. It's just that, well, it's that I'm... detached. I don't care. It's not my problem; not my life, but in a way, it is - only, I can't, I don't know. There is a love, an emotion, a something, and I should feel it.
I am a dragon, hard sleek lines on a dark night. I breathe fire and crash through suburbia taking what I want and leaving behind what's worthless. I'm a corporate climber, ruthless and cunning; planning my moves and crushing my opposition in the almost romantic light of my blazing fury. I am invincible. I. I - that's all there is to it. The Dragon, possibly the most powerful and romanticized beast that there is: the height of power, the peak of evolution; an indestructible, almost omnisciently intelligent, ruthless and very nearly immortal being. I could challenge a titan. I am the height of arrogance.
The hand fidgets. I could... if only, but... I want - I mean, I can't. I really can't, I knew better but I couldn't admit it. So I sit here. Dragons always seem to be lonesome creatures. They don't have allies. They don't have patriotism. They don't feel loss for their dead and dying countrymen. They don't give a damn. I don't give a damn, but that's not what I mean. The warmth in this hand is passing from one world to another, and I don't care - but I know I should, even though I can't. I see two figures: Time and Death, the immutable facts of life. Inevitability. They will push me aside like a fly, they have one thing I don't - understanding. I feel a sense of defeat, or despair. I disappear into another dimension - another time. You can't find me because I have become nothing, the sum of my emotions.
No comments:
Post a Comment