【Its Warmth Beckons Me】

The warmth emit from a controlled blaze was always that of the pleasing variety, for you could not burn nor overheat despite its invite towards embrace.

The solace found when lost within vast foliage was that of heaven's blessing, a tranquility unbeknownst to the modern man toiling for the success of another. The silence found outside the vision of cityscapes is the cold caller’s dream. A scape in which no stress of key and dial tones bring tinnitus and migraines beyond tolerance.

No concern for spending, no concern for commission, no worry nor for the wind is still yet at your rear side; the winds which ease one along the path of tranquility, a breeze amenable and complaisant-- enough to bring you enchantment without extinguishing the benign and affable flame.

The night as would a vernal pond lay dormant in nature, caressing those it has chosen to encompass with Its genial chill; benumbed affections granting the mind to partake in endeavors within one’s internal plotline.

An eve upholding this gelid placidity can rarely hold truth, estates forgotten lay upon the sidelines sleep in beds of roses. A slumber of such extravagant length holds no promise of waking, hence permitting the parasites of the land to camp upon Its ground.

Enough with the poetry, my mind racked of fashions in which I may further glorify this very scenario. I am but a humble slave of society, wasting away nine to five in cubicles- a phone glued to my facial extremities at all times, reciting the same script time and time again in dire hopes of commissioning.

Alas, commission I did. Resulting in the gift of paid vacating, a blessing unappreciated by the vast majority in the upper percentages- alas here I sit, accompanied by me, myself, and I. They say two is company, three's a crowd; What of one? A breathing soliloquy perhaps, rambling on page after page, each lettering continuing the facade of beauteous poetic trait.

The estates supposedly vacant, oh how they flickered. Provocative to the interest within those quite like myself, an interest suffocated by the mundane and repetitive.

Room after room I’d view the spontaneous lighting of the supposedly vacant, the whispers of tongues unheard laced within that benevolent breeze. Seemingly magnetized internally I couldn’t help but be drawn towards the source, temptation having begun to bubble and boil within my gut- that knotting sensation of overpowering curiosity swamping my frame in entirety.

Physically my body had arisen, exposed palms taking their final gander at the open flame before stuffing themselves in appropriate insulated pockets. A conscious gaze towards the location in question came about, that sensation of burning nature growing, it’d have crawled upwards to block my throat- it'd have stolen my breath away in the most awe-inspiring of fashions.

Attracted to the unknown movement had begun, an path long not ventured received attention once more despite having been overcrowded with the growth of weed and brush. A gander of safety taken regarding such a bout, for the floor of the wood was not that which I could perceive, due to the evident barrier of growth.

It wasn’t all too problematic, the ground held firmly despite the recent liquid precipitation taking toll on the topsoil. One step following the next my nearing the body of logical treachery continued, fear of that which I could not see or feel clawing at my flesh- an external pain delivered by over complication of thought, of fantasy.

This being of mystery towered above me, as sauntering halted rear the stoop. Foreboding in the truest sense of the denotation, this barrier segregated rational thought and the infinite possibility of that not seen.

Digits caressed the archaic copper gate poised before splintered and aged wooden gating, that evident of organic wear. Nimble fingers would have unlatched hooks serenading this wired figure into beauteous guard and stance, pushing it aside to hear the wail of rusted hinges unaccustomed to recieving force. Like a dying child, they screamed.

Door beyond, ‘twas broken centrally and spiraled outward in crack and mold-- a design characteristic to theories revolving around the earth’s rebirth through the warping of time’s essence with company of creation genuine.

It’d fall prey to relieving its duty, a child’s force pressing against grain to open and reveal the shambles of Victorian beauty strewn about the foyer forgotten.

The stench of mold and cousin mildew brimmed over the atmosphere, a glut of flatus abhorrent invading the innocence of common body- the aroma of decay idled within negative space outside the pictures focus.

The candelabras had been afire despite the lack of body present to initiate the lighting. Alas not even a monstrous gale could release the flaming body from its catalyst.

“The warmth emit from a controlled blaze was always that of the pleasing variety, for you could not burn nor overheat despite its invite towards embrace.”

Though contained, before this miniscule heat I felt my flesh come alive with the burning of a thousand suns; for I had embraced the body in which I failed to understand.

Curiosity kills the cat, though for a being drawn and baited- the punishment has proven far too harsh for my liking; for the emanation sensually indulged in was that of my own genesis.

Pity, for with every blessing there is a curse. Hold caution.

|| Hello hello ~ This little piece is made to instill more of a sensory reaction than anything, to absorb the reader into the setting at hand.