Stolen Sphere

I am the green.
I am the rock, the wet.
I circle the light, my children circle me.
Upon me things run, crawl, fly and swim.
There is killing, eating, life and death,
Life from death, there is balance.

In the black there are others.
They are eternal, like the light.
Small points of fire, speeding from me.
All but one.

It comes from far, incredibly fast.
It does not circle, it does not burn inside my skin.
It touches me.

It is not of me, it is strange.
It is flesh encased in metal, the flesh crawls.
I will embrace this new life, we will sustain one another,
It has always been.

Time flows.

Others come, the black fills with lights rushing to me.
I am touched, my children are touched.

They kill the things that crawl.
They eat the things that swim,
That run, that fly.
There is unbalance.

In pieces they take my children from me,
They cut the green.
They dig the rock.
They poison the wet.

I circle the light, it does not save me.

The lights no longer come,
The strange flesh crawls back to the metal.
They fly into the black, to the eternals.
I am alone, I cannot sustain.
I am death.

Mark Mongrain has been writing SF on and off for years now. He has never been published, but keeps on writing anyway! He is 31, married and has recently gone back to school after being in the work force for 10 years. He and his wife enjoy home improvement, billiards, spending time with friends and walking their golden retriever Max.

Find more by Mark Mongrain in the Author Index.

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