Two Souls

Somewhere in time, enveloped in the black - two souls hold on as they fall through the abyss.

The first, echoing screams into the pitch dark, is a young man, adorned in a bufetting cloak and simple, ragged cotton clothing. A pinched, angered look would typically reside if not for the truest of terror carved across his agast mouth, his wide brown eyes, and his deeply wrinkled forehead. A death mask etched onto the face of the living.

What led him to this fate? He would say he was destined to end up plummeting, he just wasn't sure when. Fate - a life pre-ordained - is a cruel concept. Fate, if you believe in it, will rule you. It reigned over this man, a king to a peasant.

The young man led a life of deep amber. Yearning was so well buried within him he dare not let the world see it in any form other than cynicism or resentment. It was all too painful to dig up that feeling and admit to a world so indifferent to him that he in fact, cared.

He cared for everything, from the sand covering the Earth to the Life that called it their Home.

Even now, as his raspy screams rise like an erupting volcano, he cares.

His rough, calloused hands are clenched tighlty, yet carefully, by an older, softer pair. The thumbs calmly massaging the young man's index fingers.

The second soul plummeting to a certain demise, is an older one.

Late 70's, a life of many hues, lighter greens, lush pastels and harsh reds. Adorned in a flowing robe covered in marks, scrapes, patch work and love. Acceptance graces his wrinkled, tanned face. His dark green eyes glow, an aura of calm eminates. His pursed lips ever so gently weave their way to a smile.

He has lived, had the grace to swim through the depths of deep amber and witness the mixing of hues. Love. Sadness. Mourning. Joy.

His wrinkles like rings of a tree, his eyes store an ocean of life.

As he descends, he looks to the young man, tears flowing like lapping waves.

The young man doesn't understand.

Sudden stop.