Sunspot

Sun spot

By: Tyler Ross

There he stood clutching onto essential life fragments as they oozed through the cracks in his fingerprints. No weight or proof of existence, but he believed they formed to fit his quest for resistance. One man, one burden of hope eloped its sacred bond. A breathing, mental hypochondriac spawned, as his eyes closed and for one miniscule moment emotion began to respond. Tears needed, succeeded, and fell to his sponge-like shirt casting an organic personal hell. He searched for light, gaining grain and static in sight fearing a greater shift in plight. Fire rose from his toes up, residing from the foundation. He wasn’t complacent to retrace hints of old banter, when deserted surroundings shattered signs of concrete matter. Dust now the air, vast and heavily reluctant, he tries to scatter. Wisps of panic gather and encourage the embers to dig down into his safety net used to protect how he lived. Skin thickens, and time won’t give with his cold-crusted shield. The heat latches, but the forces yield by a rediscovered will, now a calculated kill. All deals dissolve and both eyes blast rays to the skyline of over-comers like the biggest of waves. Vicious spirals of sapphire, he surfed after the summer, which dated back to earning a man's courage braving inner evils along a windy escapade. A chalked up haze, clearing transformation, now consciously vibrant and illuminated, and his body ignites ablaze. Levitated, reborn, and sustained, he absorbs the fire into his veins. More than a mortal man, he rises higher; belting Earth shifting words into an unforgiving world that left him tattered. A man, we knew used to walk alone.