Traveler

In the distance of the shimmering embers, and in the cold, intertwining of the winter’s sullen blow, there stood a young man. The crimson seams tore apart his fine silhouette, and the darkness of his hair wrapped seductively around the red, gleaming tongues of the earth. His long, tender fingers toyed with his tattered, ruined clothes, as the night evoked the growing black. They endured, quite lovingly he might add, the fiery laurels in the mist. His pale skin smoothly reflected the excitement of the flames, as he bore the cover of shadows. He closes his dark, morose eyes, and breathes in the wondrous tendrils. He weaves the scent of the ashes through his nostrils, and gripped his sleeves tightly. With a small smile, he begins to steadily stroll through the archaic hearth.
 The young man wasn’t bothered. No, not at all. He was ecstatic in fact, so much so he absolutely believed nothing could ruin it. The fires were fleeting, evanescent; he needed to drink in their flourishing glows, however small they may be, for it was his passion to relive such devastating despair. For he was an escapist, a dreamer, an illusionist, an idealist, a magician, anything his handsome mind could come up with.
 He was an adventurer, an explorer, a poet to the deities from afar, a scribe for lost promises. He was everything, and he was nothing. He was wise, and he was foolish. He was pure, and he was tainted.
 Ah, what wondrous descriptions! What lovely time, the seconds busily passing him by! The man spread his arms, his eyes meticulously counting the soot breezing by. Those black things, he finally realized, will be the light in his life. Look! They’re still glowing! Still glowing, still glowing…
 But what was that? Something hot had touched him. On the leg, maybe. The young man looked down, a magnificent sneer plastered on his face. How beautiful the fires were. Surely it would suite him well, for it shinned like he did, it dreamed like he did, and it lied like he did. And here it was, just trampling upon the fragile wind, revered in its strength and glory.
 All the while searching for a home to come to.
 But he laughed. What a ridiculous notion! How could it be chained when it was so willful, so carefree? Look at it! How it burns, searing his skin with its passionate lust! How it crackles! How it laughs!
 So the young man stood there, content with everything, as the tiny black thing conquered his skin, absorbing him in its lovely narcissism.