promise

...as he saw it coming. A promise. All around him, voices rang high, sounding out a final anthem in deep nostalgia, as if their spirits looked long and hard over their shoulders. A few tears peeped out of the corners of eyes. The chorus reverberated once again, and it seemed the many voices entwined into one. There was a resonance. A resonance he did not share. A promise he took no part of.

His voice stood apart from the rest, staring listlessly as the myriad of colors twisted into a spire, dancing to the rhythm of fire. Embers swept across the hall with walls that changed colors, destroying the past, forging a future. But for him the destruction was a welcome one. Promise nothing to him.

Cherish, not cherish the lost. For him he felt no such longing. He treasured and rubbished according to his valuation of the things and people around him, not according to the possession of them.

Now onwards he holds his dreams. Into the distance his goals are blur, and others claim them vaguer still. But others were them who imposed their own beings on his own, who took a consensus to live the way that they have lived. He holds a jewel that no one sees in the palm of his hands, believing by faith that it will ever stay, and into the fog he will tread a path, he will take the road not taken... as he always saw it going.