creationism [& it was good]

i.

On day one, the cumulous drifted lazily across the horizon's blue pupils. Their lethargic movements caught his attention. He was one of those dreamers, the gossips said. He was one of those boys who looked beyond irrefutable sermons & the disgusting temptation of child's play.

The capricious cotton weaved itself into fabrics, hues of clandestine dubbed like sunsets painted on chapped canvas & cajoling sunrises as the sky watched him, he took pictures; lens on lens, eye for an eye. A film caught the facial expressions in the passing cloud caricatures. Its cataracts slowly hazed over the vision like an undeveloped polariod. Within nature, he made his mark.

ii.

On the second day, the sun emerged. Her looks lit up the boy's face, warmth holding vivid conversation with his skin. They touched, mingled in her broad daylight. They said little, for the incessant clouds floated between their faces. He could trace out hers in the huffy grey, a two-way mirror intent to efface the two.

Though gloomy, he kept hope & that was enough to placate his needs.

iii.

On the third day, the clouds were no where to be seen. A benevolent ray asked him to acquiesce with her demands. He never thought twice. Dulcet dialogs put doubts at ease & he capitulated to her will. Little did he know about the sycophant UVs sporadically scattered in her speech.

iv.

On the fourth day, he bathed in her words. The cumulous shapes became evanescent. They were negligible in his polluted utopia. The innate desire for love disseminated pragmatic possibilities.

He laid himself down in her rhetoric sun beds & ate the speech like parochial psalms. The skin venerated her image in tomato reds. He found the pain salubrious, human & fortuitous. It made him feel alive, when the rest of the world hid its face from her affection.

v.

On the fifth day, thunderheads rolled in laughter. They say between the two, zinging lights of fact & differentiating distanced to the boy. He needed her glow. His outsides rotted away in the crystalline drops of the clouds, flaking away until the whites of bone were left.

He threw his palms up to the sky & asked to see her again. The lightning answered.

vi.

On the sixth day, his soiled skeleton became one with the Earth, ground into ground with the force of gravity. The sun chuckled at male stupidity & proceeded to persuade another.

vii.

On the seventh day, no mothers wept. Not a raindrop fell on his disturbed land. The children danced on his soot, their soles dirty with the grime of another enigma. They held hands & stomped his remains further into the Earth. Their words were the last to touch him:


"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, we all fall down."