Fly High

Her soul burned so bright it was gone almost as soon as it appeared. She was too frail and fragile for this world, so ethereal that she left traces of herself behind on everything she touched; fine, powder-like dustings, like the fingerprints of her soul. Teeny pieces of her, scatterings of her, spread over the earth. Blowing in the wind, floating and flying and landing on those she touched the most, an ever-present memorial of the complexity that she was, had been. Of the magic that consumed her hectic soul.

But she was strong.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s