• prestonbryant93

The Great One Has No Form

Alone in a room that is ready for

something new. It is time

for the nameless spirit to surprise me

again.


Even without the anticipation of

magic, my eyes feel like smoke,

signaling fire.


A book in my hands with a laughing

saint on the first page invites me to

celebrate perfect timing. Grace

pushes my chest open.


A feeling of familiarity exposes a

life he has been waiting for. Curtains draw.

Tears begin to touch the

wooden floor.


I look up, but cannot see him,

the one who brought me back to

life.


The great one has no form, but

his presence is felt.



0 views
© 2019 PRESTON BRYANT
AMUZE WEB DESIGN