Poem, Sagas, Short story, Weekend

Without looking up.

With eyes set firmly on what was before them and never further beyond, they would forsake all that followed.

Not a moment of contemplation, nor a thought for what might be, it was the moment in which they lived which held the world and all its treasure.

With nothing more important than what they could devour, they filled their bellies with seeds to be sown and covered themselves in finery.

They would lose all that they had and could ever dream. They could have known at any moment if only they could look or control their lust for more.

But now they are without, and soon no more.

 

 

 

A prompt response.

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