Devotion Roman Pavlov
A leaf flutters past , swirling and circling in the wind , carried by a greater force into places yet unknown and unpredicted . A sigh of the wind can be heard in the gentle rustling of the proudly standing blades of grass and tree branches . It ' s calm , predictable movement is encompassing and in itself , calming to spectate . Although the scene is a perfect picture of tranquility , it dictates a tension , a slight heaviness in the air ; the heavy weight of decision ; in the midst of it is chaos . It ' s the calm after a storm and before a worse one , the eye of the hurricane ; a brief peace to the war , a short ceasefire before the full invasion .
I sit beneath the great tree of Sinoth with crossed legs , meditating . I sit alone , surrounded by the rustling of autumn leaves and a calm unabating wind . No birds chirp a happy tune , no animal passes by , no human looks upon the tree in this moment . The world is lost to me as I war with my own self , trying to reach agreement of heart and mind . A chill creeps in the wind , and the familiar smell of rain advances upon me . I trace my hand over the grass taking in the softness of the ground on the hill . Memories spark in my mind , all the days spent by this exact sacred tree . I open my eyes and turn to look upon the town , the one I built up on my own , where every brick and stone was paid for with sweat and strength . Even from upon this hill I see the outline of all the familiar buildings , including my house at the centre of it all . Flames now eat at my creation , licking up the wooden and stone houses alike . Smoke rises as a signal to the heavens , a signal of destruction and defeat . No screams litter the air anymore , a stillness settles over the town , no sound except the crumbling of houses as flames continue throughout .