from this death, came another form of magic —and from that form of magic, comes, inevitably, another death, screeching out of the roiling dark. the magic tells me, look deeper. so i see it. so it will be, so i spot it now: there’s something intricate, woven into all these threads… allow me to untangle— i am wrought open, inconsolable, by the pain of your memory. by everything you did. and I am covered in your demons, from my wilted feet to the darkening crown of my sorry head. so it shall be, so it always was, so it is.
