Convicts

No one knew it. They were all judged in absentia. The judge, however, disagreed with the way the verdict was posted. Only that old prophet wrote it on the wings of the emerging midge of sacrifices, on the altar burned by the trunks of self-sacrifice.

The lowly gazes never saw it in the signs of the sky. All blind, yet with wide-open eyes they moved forward. Searching... Stolen hopes from long ago. The great diamond in the mud of the unwashed streets. The children's smiles in the lost nameless faces. A dead flower, painted in the dull, empty gazes. A useless thorn, embedded in their Achilles' heels, bled slowly. They still endured.

Until the dark, supposedly unknown, gate opened before them. With the black rainbow in the distance and an immense, cracked void behind it. Time stumbled upon the rippling dim moons of unexpected surprise, before the senses of truth woke up groggily. Before the paintings, embossed, on the carved bodies of the resinous trunks, were illuminated by the flames of burnt hopes and the light died irrevocably.

You laughed... Leaning next to the window of curiosity, beside the curtain of frowning, which had just been dragged. As if you had known it since childhood...