#about solan

it happens when i adjust the linen over my eyes 'is it very difficult? to be blind?' and i could say that this is no ordinary un-seeing. my eyes go places yours can't. i could say 'did your father never teach you right? did no one ever tell you?' that there is Good living in the deep / shy / shadows#that there is Evil walking all its days with the sun on its face 'yes and no' is all i say. it's true either way.

she showed him how the pod. the un-designable shape of that chrysalis. had one more secret to tell 'it's not the same coming out as going in' she explained and to his delightful horror she pressed the thing until it popped. yellow-green goo rushed out 'once she goes in and closes the door there's nothing left of that caterpillar' but he didn't have the look of a believer. even with the proof running over her knuckles devoured. consumed. repurposed she didn't grow wings and long slender legs she'd never eat with that mouth again she didn't fly. only died for the stuff of life but there was memory in there too a soul. she'd tried to remember as everything grew dim and colorless. a soul is just memories stories between hearts they're reborn. they fly.