the saints are coming // the saints are coming
i say no matter how i try // i realize there's no reply
It’s cold. Of all the first thoughts in life, it is probably not a unique complaint.
And it’s wet. Again, most likely not a unique second complaint.
He shivers, his smoky black skin rippling in the crisp early morning air. Unhappily, he emits a weak, irritable bleat, entirely unaccustomed to the lack of an ever-present warm, comforting hug.
His eyes crack open slowly, and for the first time ever, the warm shades of dawn flood his vision. He quickly shuts his eyes, unsure what to make of such blinding brightness, as he lets out another unhappy cry.
But his curiosity (and discontent) get the better of him, and he forces his eyes open again – wider this time. For another moment, he is blinded by the brilliance of light, but slowly he begins to make out shapes and hues. Most of the world around him seems two colors, he notes… whatever above him is one color, and the lower half of the world is another. Blues and greens, a wiser horse might call them, but he’s too busy taking them in for the first time.
His dark eyes are wide, hungrily drinking in the new colors and shapes as more and more come into focus. He sees tall, lanky things in the distance, vertical brown trunks leading to pink buds emerging within a cloud of green. He sees distant specs gliding across the blue sky, with one occasionally dropping to land into one of the green clouds. And next to him, he sees a mound of brilliant gold, and for some reason, he feels compelled to cry out to it.
But the gold shape does nothing.
He bleats again, feeling his little stomach rumbling unhappily.
Still nothing.
He inches his little dark muzzle towards the shape until his whiskers brush against it. The shape is soft and warm, but motionless. Yet, something in him knows that the shape is the source of comfort and sustenance, and he bleats again in vain.
Nothing.
Following a final feeble cry of frustration, he lets out a small sigh and lowers his head to the ground, too weak to attempt again.
