Ignite my tired wings, Senestra, my horse falters on this outcrop. The cliffs are pierced by the winds and the salt into a tracery of stone, as though the sea's answer to any question is to throw water on it. Rains scatter the ashes of yesterday's hearth, and there are no fortunes to be told except in mud. Even the lees of the beaujolais only point to half-truths and blunt endings.
I hope the escape is worth the wait Senestra. I clung to my perch for so long, I felt the coldness of Andromeda chill me. I was cast among the lesser stars of the universe, trailing a silver track behind me. The fruits of the day were dark. Still the rain drifts in shifts. Drench is one inside the other.
Have mercy upon me Senestra, prophetess. For what more profit can there be than to come together, to sing, to pray, to ignite the lights of companionship. Ignite me. Let us flow together.
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