Now she is silent. Yesterday was another story, but now, no, now she is silent. The moon was to cast a gaze on the splendor they once so happily infused in one another, but not now. Now the eloquent temptress of a faint memory haunts her. An image of her forbidden self, a wanderer without a mantle seeking the moon in the relentless darkness of her void. Now she weeps for the turning of her tides was met with bitter distress. No, not this time, not the tides she rode helplessly in the infancy of her mind, but the crashing sweeping wake of expectations left unmet. Today she is naked and the tree that once hid her skin in it's shadow has withered and become ill. Today her living tree sees the consequence of her default, it is the unforgiving witness of her departure. At dawn she prayed for the moon, and at sunset she yearned in nostalgia for the morning breeze. Where was her lover tonight? He was beside her, comforting her, but no, tonight she remained silent. Tonight she holds her desires firm while she caresses her dragon, the dragon that laid bare her inhibitions and fed her whilst she wept under the fading living tree.


From the ocean to the depths of the river running north from the chambers of her heart to the rising of the sun, she danced in the ponds screaming “this is my death! This is my death!” When she came close to the edge flowing from her river she ceased and began to tremble. Where was her heart to catch her before she dipped her skin in the steaming hot house of the living waters? She was white and they were red and she sank her teeth inside their flesh and of their flesh she was made. “Hello! HELLO!” her screams reverberated in the chamber and awakened her reason, her light that cast a gaze upon the sores and open wounds of her nakedness. Now she was red and they were glistening blue, forever more she would know the stench of their device, her machine. What a tragedy for sobriety to arrive at this hour. Slowly her wounds are healed and she is rising towards the light that moved between the chambers. Like a tone rung in harmony she wept and drifted towards the void above while she stared at her void below.


She was the child of their love and now she is motherless with the light of her father to guide her. In the light of innocence she lingered in the growing wonder. Now she was colorless, now she feels but cannot see. The chambers are formless come night they are blue. The light cast a frown and withers in the evening mist. “Descend towards the chambers of the living waters, Child! See you are red and we are blue,” she hears them twitch in the void, a widow laying flat on the waters, and her an orphan bore of the flesh of a wanderer. Now she is cloaked in fleshly blue, and the night is ever silent. 



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