stilled, lifeless and painless without feeling. cut off from the one power, the one state, the only thing that matters. the only time it matters, the only state.
or something like that.
stilled, like a flower in stasis, frozen before it could bloom, nothing but a bud of green, not yet its full beauty, not even beautiful, and when the stasis is broken, the ages catch up before it can bloom, and the green turns to brown, and dies.
stilled like a mantis locked in frozen prayer, not moving, while ants crawl across its carcass, removing that which could give them sustenence, expand the hive, keep everything going as it should
stilled like a child staring at the blob of whiteness on the floor where her ice-cream just fell, the same one she spent her entire month's pocket money on, her grimy dress made beautiful by her smile when she handed the money over, and now she stands stilled, the tears not yet arrived.
stilled like a sunset on a battlefield. when the soldiers who survived watch as the smoke clears, rising into the air as if it carried the souls of their dead men-at-arms. silent when they understand life means little to those who created this war, but were never present.
stilled like the moment of rapture at a baptism. when the child screams as the cold water caresses its face, and the parents look happily on.
stilled when the moon breaks through the cloud and rests its gaze on a shape two, arms held together as they explore the recesses of one another's bodies.
stilled when the beauty arises. every piece of it. stilled with the understanding that comes with the stasis. with its wonder.
i am stilled when i see her, hear her, know i'm the one she's thinking of. stilled, when i realize the reason why is because there's no-one else to talk to, and i can easily be replaced...
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