King of silence, lord, your highness, can you hear me sing? I just can’t escape the starving thoughts your darkness brings. Does this circus hold a purpose? Time makes such a mess. In the end nothing will stand except the simple truth of death. So give me silence. Water. Hope. Thirteen coils in a manila rope. For life is but a joke.
Queen of lightning, ever-ripening, you are all I’ve got. And I don’t care if my heart prevails as long as its wars are fought. And I’ll pin down each sight, each sound, until my day arrives. For when my quill curls around the wind, that’s when I feel alive. So ring the bells and blow the horns. Pierce my skin. Reveal my bones. Then let me come into the storm.