around his blood-red feet deepened holes of increasing darkness. wandering, eyes fixed to the earth, beneath the infant sun. through the trees, through the mud, to the edge of the forest, run. breaking stride, there isn’t much time. leaves and slender trees sing for him a cacophonous symphony touching fear and doubt. lit with fiery eyes, the performing orchestra crescendos into a powerful wave of diluted hope bringing with them an army of thoughtless emotions. submissively crashing to no avail, they chased him.