Since the whole tragedy with Chegg dog and the pilgrimage into the desert went down, I had, almost immediately, these visions of Hell Hounds and the dispicable nature of the harsh earth. It inspired a system release of a handfull of narritives on paper regarding Death, the devil, and of course, God. Not everyone is familiar with God's temptation in the desert, but from beyond three months having been here, it is an inviting place. Hidden, like a canyon almost. Like the Valley of Death.
There are brilliant colors against each other here at war and peace but never at rest. They come in tides washing over the seas of endless jagged hot stone filling every gap and void. Truely, the voids found are full of wonder and curiosity beckoning like sirens, "Come in to us, for we have sheltered many." Illusions, to men who boldly trek after them only to find themselves tossed about by gravel and churning sea of their own selfish desires, lost, among the vast thicket sickle spiked claw of the desert's blind grasp, cactus, sharp spine, solar fire.
Water is Spirit. When it's all gone or poisoned or worse, Hell Hounds will rise up in the hearts of men just as they did today and yesterday, but tomorrow they shall be unrestrained, and they'll stalk the desert floor of this earth like the Terrible Lizard.