Literature
Chasing The Gods
At the stroke of midnight, they'd race the Gods.
Their feet would plough through the banks of snow, their pants far beyond soaked.
Above them, the lights shimmered and swayed to a silent rhythm.
But that didn't stop them from dancing.
They'd run for miles, panting for breath as they ghosted through trees and backtracked past boulders.
The moon would hang like a claw in the sky, a vibrant white enfolded in rich, velvety black.
The array of blues, greens, and reds above them kept them going.
They'd chase the ribbons until they reached the end of the night –
When the sun rose from the horizon and swallowed up the ever-coiling snakes.
When