Dearest Prospero,
I have seen how
the war have destroyed. Our marriage
was enough to keep me sane and
faithful. I am
now a mother from
a demon and a widow.
Prospero,
up the heavens
you must go. Find my son
and my soul out in the crevice of hell
before the gates shut close.
Prospero,
as I cradle him now in
my bloodied hands. Interrupted his spur to life.
And no longer
he cries. There little one… there.