Through grey trees and dead wires. Lifting light over buildings. The promise of warmth raises eyes with hope like glasses at a wedding. The chance of more, a question answered right. An alternative to night.
Shifting shapes and restless limbs, bustle to position. A sword in my hands and a scarf around my neck. Inching closer, moving forward. Some might say the sky is falling. This time I’m getting it right.
thatisabeginning 