Mightily

I saw the scene of Kings:

And we relaxed there, talking of the fashion and what best made this lounger, and she laid down beside me, moving and turning her back with curly hair that wasn't hers and that stared back at me, knowing exactly what I was doing, and two more judging me, shaming my pick of the fruit a season too early, fairness is beyond reproach, you, you will be hated for your ability to exclude.

And then all of us were rushed to glory, in a scene only from which decay is come, to see the costumed magnificent be elegant, the blue skies and cumulous, towering and full of thin legs were these elephant brigades, even in their sparseness, a desert with no cold, no warmth, no temperature at all.

Then came the black mass in joyous concentration, spilling in heterogeneity and up the concrete apartment balconies as they curved space, making colosseum.

The announcer called for us in the excited rush too look to the heavens and see the plane, so much excitement about this plane. He urged us to take pictures and it was as if almost everyone did, the rocket instead came, but our flashes attracted its gaze as it looped mightily for us in an instant.

But things like that take much longer, and all of it was grace.

So we ran as if we ran, dispersed, guilty to magical lands.