The rain ruined restlessness. Flowing outside like the landscape was calling, stood and surveyed the assorted denizens in wakeful slumber. The air clean, cold, arresting time. Winds blew in intervals of damning denial and burst in epiphanic release. It annihilated self. Rooted and scattered over the elements. Over the locked doors and guarded gardens, onto the mighty moors and stern seas. Nefertiti stood still, devoted, waiting.

"The chains are missing" shouted Balthazar. She turned reluctantly.

Her auburn hair swirled. Her apparel quarreled, seethed. Blazing in a fiery free-spirited skirt and tunic, she was to break in on the sun that day. But the sovereign stylist was nowhere seen. Worrying over undone dreams, she had zeroed in on him as the Decima and offered defiance.

Not insensitive to the rare stillness, Balthazar's gaze latched onto her lips that defied desire and denied distance.

"Never mind. Its the one thing that is lost but will be found." Balthazar went off to search elsewhere. She said nonchalantly , resuming her look out for winged opiates. Each second past here is resolve lost. For despite the colour and indifference her soul was drooped. it was bored of the dogma of duty. Tired of the rules for obscurity. She gathered into her the petal-painted zephyr-brushed canvas and returned to restlessness.

(To be contd.)

@ARTEMIS