Their feet stepping one in front of the other, as they raced down the hill. Their clothing muddy, bloody and torn but it was the end of their journey. They reached the doorway, and just as they did the old man opened it. His eyes just barely twitched with suprise and mortification that there was only two of them left instead of seven. One had a trail of dried blood coming from underneath his hat and the other one stared at him with dead eyes. They both were aged beyond their years from the last time he had seen them which was little less then a year, he hadn't expected the quest to take so long. They handed him the red drawstring bag and he looked inside, he barely raised his head to look back at them. He tried to nod his head in appreciation and in respects for their loss. So much loss for his gain of power and life. He went back to his table and grabbed the two bags of coins and pressed it into both the boys' palms. They just stared back at him with bloody lifeless eyes. There was not very much left for them, a waste of coins he thought. He gave them one last look, then turned his eyes to the bag and slowly closed the door, and didn't open it again.

life is a room
life has a door and many windows
the door is unlocked
and open to the end of life
the windows never open
and are only a view
the door is death
but it leads to a beginning
of an eternity
life is only a view
and the only ending
is being born
it is the end of not existing

once a moment
upon the mantlepiece
now a bleeding stone
nothing to cure it of
its one-note lament

breathed so
silently
that universes
collided
as rain fell
from the ground
the sky has betrayed us at last
nothing to protect us from
the light in our eyes
as we look upon a portrait
in a different frame
no more pretty picures
in our hushed intoxicated lair

smoke glides
over the glass
and i cannot see
what i am looking for
existence of delicacy
under a shadow

the moment evaporates
into nothing
and all i can see
is myself

Their feet stepping one in front of the other, as they raced down the hill. They clothing muddy, bloody and torn but it was the end of their journey. They reached the doorway, and just as they did the old man opened it. His eyes just barely twitched with suprise and mortification that there was only two of them left instead of seven. One had a trail of dried blood coming from underneath his hat and the other one stared at him with dead eyes. They both were aged beyond their years from the last time he had seen them which was little less then a year, he hadn't expected the quest to take so long. They handed him the red drawstring bag and he looked inside, he barely raised his head to look back at them. He tried to nod his head in appreciation and in respects for their loss. So much loss for his gain of power and life. He went back to his table and grabbed the two bags of coins and pressed it into both the boys palms. They just stared back at him with bloody lifeless eyes. There was not very much left for them, a waste of coins he thought. He gave them one last look then turned his eyes to the bag and slowly closed the door, and didn't open it again.