It all perished in the great fire of Tuesday night.
Burning tendrils licked around our greatest history, best forgotten.
The love letters.
The photo I still hadn't pinned a vengeful knife through.
My favorite anarchistic symbol of renewal threw a blade forth for me, it stuck in the wall, crumbling the image around it's watery lucid edges.
Yes. They commanded me so. I heard the calling from a life beyond my own. Telling me, how to scrape muddy sick from between my own two satellites. Riseth from the earth, it bellowed in a sweet, courageous voice of silver, Use the ones of stone as leaverage to thrust your feet upon green ground once more!
So I lifted the veil of shadow away.
Threw my doubts to her mistress the wind.
Who carries all sorrows to their end.