At the edge of the morning,they shimmer—stripes stitching and unstitching the plain,a restless river of black and white dreams. Each hoof prints a fleeting mapon the dust that forgetsand the wind that remembers. Ears tilt toward the unseen,eyes catch the flick...

Can i ask you to ask me if i’m okay? Is it weird if i don’t listen to that question anyway?Isn’t it silly to live life with a raised chin, while my body is covered with more scar tissue...

Ten, nine, eight,seven, six, five, fourBehold, I knock upon the doorthat whosoever… three, two, oneWe have ig-ni-tion.Orian sighs and by his breath,all life returns from after death.A swarm of ships from Heaven’s realmamass and duly overwhelmthe somber dark before...