He just was

They lie floating in their homes, already dead when the light drapes their vessels, like the cloth that will drape their tear drowned tombs. Cold and still, no spark in their bodies but their  spirits roam to their will through the masses of shuddering once to-be family, not even given a chance to want to look upon their faces. And yet the child is unfeeling to it, unmoved by the scene he can not understand he caused, because he didn't, his vessel did, he remained.

The child turns to the sky in a last hope to touch the light he had almost felt on his almost skin, and he flew. He flew. Like Icarus had, only the childs wings did not  melt even as he tackled the sun. And it did not burn, nor did it blind, it just was as the child just was. And he chased it to the end and bathed in its brothers pale shine as it sang and lulled the world into rolling over in its sleep.

He jumped skimming the universe with the end of his fingertips, the child took it upon himself to see all beings that were. And as he looked at what was, he thought of nothing but sleep and another tomorrow with larger infinities he could crawl into and chase. For he was free. Free of the burden we have to bare. Free of the choices we have to choose. And he would not live on. And he would not die. He just was.

See ya soon,

Alex