The light of her avatar in a dark sky. Throwing rose petals into the dirty cracks of the sidewalks glimmering upward to the heavenly spheres. A spirit flowing down the echoey halls of a golden castle. The life in death she’ll reflect to beautiful gardens cascading beyond her. Suns afire in the waning light and the promise of a returning day. Eternal glances of beauty kept within the smile she graces her courtiers with. Dances in speechless remembrance, the celebratory goblet held in sanctimonious offering. A petal on the face, the hard prick forgotten. Longing for the light to fight away its counterpart. In purity of raven’s wings spread to fly, the dynasty of love come forth.
The steam from
Through placid doors…