The Avatar Electric.

In the heart, in a windowless room, deep within the marrow of ancient stone, veined from the cracks of time, thick, heavy, smog, silk hung from the ceiling, cascading in concentric loops, slowly a sinuous movement which defied gravity, the fabric glistened as it spun in slow motion, the air was stirred. Sky Clad. A dance of neopaganism. Golden in the iris, silk spiraled downward, motion impossibly slow yet noticed, pattern change, a fall, a fault, without formality, just movements, normalcy raped, swaying of the silk, responding. Silhouettes melting into one. Making the blackness blacker. Bodies stilled.

The sea rose in ecstasy, waves of which climbed impossibly high, like water in a bowl, hit, and the waves splashing upward, crests silvered by the pale moon in the black, cliffs silent, resistant, indifferent even as the ocean molested them, clawing, violent embrace against stone that yield nothing. And there was no sound, no roar of mighty waves, no howl of the wind, only a hum, a vibration that rippled deep and resonate, through the air, the wood, the stone and through the surface of blue.

Growing wilder, the storm, the waves which rose higher, movements so frenetic, ecstatic, orgasmic, gavotte of chaos, defy nature, snow turned into rain, hard as hail, vanishing as it came, no standing around, swallowed by the ocean's maw, tendrils of light slithered, dodging the droplets at the speed of light, smoke, golden and soft, honey which fell dark upon the earth. Sprays of silver and white, oppressive and absolute the sound of nothing, unrelenting pressure of the Atlantic.

Resume.

Calm.

Cold.

Rise now.

You and me against the world
You and me against the world
You and me against the world
World about to end
World about to end
World about to eend

Windblown

Centrifugal

Bestial

Logical

Amber rain is beautiful...

Author's Note