White orange blossoms covered the trees lining the streets and squares; the scent filled the cool spring air. A soft sound of music played as the feet of the men moved in time carrying the weight upon their shoulders. Their eyes blinded by cloth, faith guided them as they moved in time through the crowd.
Deaths window to the place across the way was a reflection of the past played out in a still picture that still moved in such a way when the curtains blew she knew. What she had seen in a day was an empty space dressed and embroidered with no access to the path way, shiny goblets and adornments empty of the passion of life.
Once he wrote in the sand, “she will come for you”
Then it was said that those that could See
She has not abandoned you
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