vernal pool

On stolen life he walks. Taking on the light; striving to bring darkness to the world he wakes. With sand in his throat and the sun in his eyes. Screaming his soul burns as he searches, burning hotter every day he has been condemned. The days grow longer as he draws closer. (the preacher) Sweat of anticipation forms rivers on his face. So close to the light it burns, but he cannot turn away. This is his day; he spits fire and lead; he dodges water and death. The light starts to dim, he finally sees the face coughing blood. He leans down and whispers "This is your last breath, your reign is done." (the gunslinger)