Wings of a Windmill

by Demetre Ironhilt

Reflection by Christian on the windmill and what impact it had on his life after Satine's death.

The Windmill's Wings

What once was a symbol of freedom,

now stands as my barrier,

my entrapment,

keeping me from freedom.

Complete,

they let circulate the time that has brought me to life,

representing all beauty I held true to myself.

Time,

Is what they are.

Time would heal all wounds.

They mock me with their silent words,

still revolving before me,

mesmerizing, and never letting me forget the pain.

A wound? I thought.

She was a wound?

The definition: A forthwith bleeding of my heart.

I do not bleed.

I bled.

My heart can never heal,

it can only remember,

a women.

Never a wound.

The wings pause before me, continue.

I laugh at them.

I needed not time,

for I have no wounds.

A memory has barricaded itself in my heart,

a memory that will outlast the decay of these filthy runes.

Let the wings of a windmill pass,

let the wind carry them on.

I will linger no longer in front of them,

I owe time nothing,

I owe her everything.

A/n: r/r?