02-20-2016, 10:34 PM
have i been lost? inside myself and my own mind
hypnotized; mesmerized by what my eyes have seen
hypnotized; mesmerized by what my eyes have seen
The pale sunlight shines down, illuminating everything that is not shaded by the looming cliff as the sun slowly dips below the horizon. The warmth exudes from the sand, in spite of autumn's descent into the many pockets of land, but its embrace is not lost on the young filly as she ventures carefully over the various sharp rocks that line the cove. The leaves are beginning to change into soft but dull shades of brown and vibrant shades of yellow and orange, and it is only a matter of time until the icy chill of winter follows - but to the eager, doe-eyed youth of Misra, it was all new and unknown, and she often climbed where she shouldn't in an attempt to see the changing leaves outside the boundaries of the beach.
It was enthralling.
Suddenly, she loses her balance, causing her to squeal out in pain as a single sharpened stone scraped along her delicate skin. She paused to inspect the damage as a trickle of blood began to trail down along her backside; evoking a sigh of frustration. Grace was not her strong suit, and it was not the first wound she had received since birth. She knew not to climb, but she so desperately wanted to be closer to the sky, and it often caused her harm. She cradled her wound with a flexed wing, brushing the dark (but graying) feathers over it to shield it from harm, soon distracted from the sting of injury as she carefully moved away from the rocks to step onto sifting sand.
Cradled nearby was a small pool of sea water, trapped by low tide. It is there that her attention is fully taken by her own reflection, her own deep brown gaze searing into that of her mirrored image, observing thoughtfully as she slowly expands and outstretches her thick, glorious wings. Kirin so loved her wings, and so she had grown to love them as well. He often preened them and caressed them in a way that made her feel as if it were something special; something to behold.
And so she stands, alone, admiring the way her pelt shines and her eyes glimmer, unaware of those who may be nearby.
Misra
immortal winged child of silver cove