Written by Gabriella Troy
Art by Washarapol D BinYo Jundang
Energy pulsates through the vicinity in
lightning-quick streaks, with promises
of minty fresh lungs and
shots from out of the darkness.
Something wet trickles down,
heightening the senses,
inching through a knot of tiny legs and
infinite little particles.
The moisture pools,
the stolen molecules thrum in anticipation
of the vacuum that sucks suddenly
against gravity, toward the electrifying warmth.
Something is crumbling away, microscopically thorough.
Blue seeps through the shock of awareness:
this energy is brighter, more powerful,
tugging all greedy little fingers.
Yet two fingers tug hardest,
and the others wither away
with distant hope, not promised
such a successful surge.
What once crumbled has given way,
and life stabs into the cerulean light:
the earth births a king–
a tyrant, a weed.