uh, sure
2003-09-07 | 8:56 p.m.

I am barefoot on a beach, my back to the thunderous surf of an angry sea. The sky seems to hang low with heavy ashen clouds tinted sulfurous orange by a newly awakening volcano. I look to the south and see a fiery serpent, slithering from the mountains, into the hissing sea. I look to the north and I see a river of people, fleeing their homeland. In my right hand I hold the burning sun; in my left, the glowing moon. My feet are planted firmly in the ground. I cannot be moved. My legs are obsidian. I wear a belt of iron. My head is gold, pure and incandescent. My arms are like woven cords of titanium, and my torso is engulfed in flames. My heart is visible. With every beat, the flames intensify. The sun grows hotter and the moon brighter. My eyes are white hot, light pours out from them into the darkening world. The sea becomes more angry and reaches up to me, trying to draw me into its cool and quieting depths. I cannot be moved. Again and again, it tries in vain to claim me, but I stand there in defiance, my back turned, mocking its strength. The river of people runs dry as they escape to safety. The fiery serpent grows fatter with the memories of my nation. The world changes while I stand, unmoving and unmovable, while I stand and do nothing but burn.

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