Beneath the Abyss

 

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He clung to a floating fragment of red oak while praying mutely for sunlight that would not come, that would not heed the commands of unseen deities, their jaws agape as they themselves clung to the fiery, looping fetters of distant stars sunk deep in the vast pitch above him, spheres of fire swimming in a black void that is boundless in scope and in era and in awe.

That vile, invidious sun lurking languidly beneath a gelid horizon, taunting him with warmth veiled, abundance absorbed deep into oceans swaggering fervently on the opposite side this impartial planet, this spinning cerulean orb locked taut in endless vacuity, merely one of billions careening carelessly along orbits elliptical and confined and finite.

Damn those hidden deities concealed in myth and ubiquity and damn that furious sun concealed in soot and shade.  He pushed away the floating fragment of red oak and soon floated downward, beneath and beyond that vast, black arc of space, no more to touch the deliberate and measured lumber of infinity.

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