SirBrian

I awake slowly on a shallow hill, away from the centers of the people. The towers of the West breathe light into my eyes, and the skies are teeming with colors, and it is ever-dusk. The auroras shimmer and shake, and occasionally there is a ripple, like a water-drop. Like a dove dropped in a pool. It is angelic. The ripples convalesce and aliase until they are one, and by that this electric tide I feel it almost midday, for the pattern is same-daily, and it never changes. I take a light in my hands, and walk home in darkness. There is a morning-star.

Something tells me it must be done Another within me prevents this one.     he shall live for now,          unworthy bug. It's hard to restrain,     this heavenly rage,           that i have for the beings               of this world. Those on my right,     and those on my left, Both have their own,     good/evil intent. And those in between,     turn 'gainst their queen, attack her with bouts of envy.