Maddest Of All

Mud streaked about our bodies, caked like dirt upon our faces. Paint splattered, drawn in straight lines across cheeks and arms (markings for warriors before they headed into battle). A fire sprung up from broken bits of a former life, and as we ran in circles around it (coaxing it to grow), we barred our teeth and shouted like past evolutions, our primate brothers. Our bare feet thundered around the grass, stomping it further back to the roots. We took axes to odds and ends: tables, chairs, bed frames, end tables, conjuring the storm as we mixed it with the fire. And at the end of it all, we leapt from our clothes and waded into the lake, floating with the gentle waves, looking upwards and onwards.