“Wild oak wood, crafted to exact precision by the finest carpenter

with Victorian carvings on the back and Persian feline paws to position itself upon the floor.”

This chair holds a secret.

Unlike any other of its kind, it perceives the world behind the nature of things.

It understands the complexities of our anatomy.

Holds us when we have reached our limits in a timeless grasp.

Yet we take it for granted.

Abandoned it in unkind places, thrown it into burning flames.

But as I said, it’s unlike any other of its kind.

Fire fuels its soul and enlivens every crack and splinter.

Fire is its friend, and has protected it.

When we have not.

This formidable structure of unknown origin and name stalks the halls silently at midnight.

(lunarlullubies)