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.

The End

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