Dear dearly departed,

Dissolve unto darkness the swift thoughts of love you felt, my dear,
For I assure you they were misjudged and misled.
When you think of a face or voice such as mine,
Think of an empty abyss and mold such ideas no further.
I am grave to say this heart offers you no further jubilee.
Let not your life-stream be trapped in a strongbox,
Or forever descending on the never-ending downward elevator.
I apologize that what was once an equal melancholy,
Or perhaps even a twin prosperous endurance of suffering,
Is now a crippled husk of what once was.
I lament for my loss,
But for yours more.
I await your letter at once.
Sincerely,

William L. Levesque

A race of people whose bones tolled like bells when the traveler shed bliss upon their world early each solar cycle.
I watched them with slackjawed edge from my little corner of universe with unholy, godly rhetoric.
Through my scope of foresight I saw their futile attempts at peace, love, war, and all things human.
Warm illusions of grandeur filled their view oftentimes as I stretched my ancient tendons.
I blew staunch breezes and razing storms that shook a world to the core with reckless abandon.
And they returned to me, nothing more than fizzled essence.
Honeyed words, broken culture, and finally, wasted life itself.

With what is yours, do what you fancy.

But forget not what is fiction, and what is firm.

The white billowing funnels of purely antiquated fluff rolled by like wind in a lazy sail. The syrupy cirrus disasters dripped heaven unto passersby. Everyone watched and waited, but not a wretch took even an instant to notice that a malevolent tempest brewed south. Mortals went on with their days, hell's revenants. Constructing sin and suchwhat. All was lost before it had begun. God's master plan. Flaming meteorites launched spectacular displays of warfare and catastrophe in the firmament. Corpses showered the celestial Terra for years, months, days, hours, minutes, and seconds. Only when hot hate ran through the streets of humanity was it finally forgotten. Over and done with. Then a new day began, a purplish-pinkish day, complete with stiff greens, cool blues, posh reds, and the occasional stygian black. A conclusion before there was even a conception. There was a sky.

And suddenly, the sky made love.