Dominion I

A soft purring illuminates the heart of the Sylvan forests. Reverberations pulse through the otherwise still canopies. A shift in the winds.  A breach in tranquility. An eerie precipice. The Dominion, where the winds seem to stop entirely. Where walls and steel make sanctuary. A fortress confined by the “protection” they anxiously guard. A shifting border that exhales its claim. To take up more space within itself each breath. Inch by inch the mechanical being swells. Its hum suddenly contorts into a screech. A moment of stillness, just as unsettling, cascades from the stone. The forest braces for The Dominion’s next breath. They are never far apart.