Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Faceless ❯ A Clown's Tear ( One-Shot )

[ P - Pre-Teen ]

Disclaimer: I dun own 'em. I just channel 'em. ^.~

Faceless
by Koyuki Aode

Cinders, these stars. Floating cinders.
Like feathers in the windy day.
Like the clouds of gray
against a fleeting gaze of blue.
Here, I exist, here, I rest--
waiting for the grass to stop tickling me,
waiting for my fancy to strike
against some form of nature;
so that a bird, a flower, a bee,
one my inner child will snuggle to.

Laying here, I ponder,
will the stars dance for me today?
A sparkle that will fly away too soon,
after the trek of moon has passed,
and all that exists are memories.
Fleeting memories.
Memories of deep seas of azure,
pouring through the sands of an Arabian desert.
Golden, sleek, and pure--
in the glow of a pale, warming sun.

The sight in my mind's eye renders a burning,
a sensation that rips through my eyes,
with the utmost violence, and sincerity--
prodding me to let part of myself go.
To let my mask flip and fall,
shattering against the glass pathway of my life,
so delicate and transparent,
carved with the greatest of precision and care.
Carved into my fate...

I remember the moment of broken fate--
When the sun showed itself to me,
from behind a darkened day, and the veil of solitude;
when I felt myself dutiful to die.
The sun, it opened its palms to me,
surrender, in a fight it could have won,
with the vast cosmos on it's side;
the universe against a wanderer of clay,
of rotting, desolate stone.

And he rattled me, that sun--
distracting me with flooding oceans--
melting the mask I wanted to break.
He got to me before I could allow--
burning silently in the sky, passing along
as if he knew nothing else.
East to West, and further gone,
he returned like algebraic constant;
unable to rid himself of my possessive variable.
I unable to rid myself of him.

Moving silently against the creak of stairs,
he climbs into my psyche,
a gentle palm pressed against the wall,
and cautious eyes knowing where to go.
No guard will stop him, nor will bats chase.
Tracing his intuition against the dusty
halls of my silence, he will find an answer,
and he will decide himself.
Am I worth it?

Under the quilt of outer space,
I myself cannot calm these queries.
But he would, he does dare to follow--
and who am I to counter?
Over the end of doubtful hills,
a first impression seethes, and rocks--
hidden in the dunes of a hot sandy kingdom,
there lays the cracked remains of my shell.
Waiting, with patience and eternity,
for it's clown to return.

*owari*