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Dust to Dust
I used to feel joyful inside,
Carrying hope and promise and pride.
The feeling I can’t with words describe,
But I intend to now inscribe..
How hope has fled,
love has died.
It was all just a cruel lie,
tears of crimson is all I will find.
Life is pain, selfish, cruel.
But no more will I be a fool.
Without love, life is a desert.
Only by experience, this you may assert .
Never felt like this..
For life, love is the oasis!
And I am dying of thirst.
Rezlus finished his musings, a light breeze casting his robes of ebon midnight adrift as he stood stoic as a statue. His crimson eyes searched the sands of the desert world of Tatooine, as if the piercing orbs could see beyond the heat and desolate sands. His ghostly strands of hair, silver mixed with raven, moved silently around his pale visage. He could nearly sense the cave he had heard tales of from the dying scavenger he had met upon his voyage across the universe as he pursued his daunting task. Somewhere in the sands that time had neglected was a cave that held one piece of the puzzle.
The man seemed a shadow among the landscape of stone and dust. As he brushed some of his hair away, he pressed a button on the black datapad he withdrew from his robes; light metallic clinks from the jewelry and equipment he carried. The Necrophage began to ascend, hiding in orbit until it's master returned. As the ship vanished from view, one eye following it, he began to move deeper into the jagged canyon. Silent as the grave he walked, a storm of emotions roiling beneath the calm surface. He joined the Sith Order, but he always walked the shadows alone.
He had joined and left in the same day, seeking the freedom to move about the empire without hindrance. Of course he was interested in what they could teach him but the fact remains this opportunity was just too good to pass up. And if it turned up to be false...well all he had lost was a few days and some sweat. For hours traveled the weather worn path, barely discernible unless you were seeking it and marked with nearly imperceptible markings left by the Rodian scavenger.
But now thirst was crying out for his attention and he found an outcropping shielded from the merciless suns of Tatooine. He moved to the shade, letting the only slightly cooler air surround him; feeling more at home among the shadow. He sighed, realizing his eyes were closed and opened them to find hours had passed. His body had slept while his mind had never stopped. Tired. Always tired. Sleep never came and the nightmare of life never ended. But if he could succeeded in his quest...maybe he could wake up. His voice was an echo, the whispers of a dead soul. "Where are you...watching me from the skies we used to soar? Are you with them? Are you happy? Are you angry? Will you hate me if fail? Will you hate me if I succeed?"
"I suppose it doesn't matter...as long as you are with me again. I hate this. All of this. All of it. It has no purpose, no substance. All I ever had was stolen from me. And the universe shrugged. Such apathy. Such an resounding sense of nothingness." He crouched along the edge of the outcropping, eyes dull and distant. Behind him? The wings of a fallen angel spread out wide before engulfing him to only show his face. "The world is a stage and we are the fools prancing about it for the king."
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