you are the shadowed echo of a shapeshifter that once pulled at the shackles of my sanity
the seasons change around us, autumn arrives, barely breathing. Those inclined to pray, pray pointlessly. We gather red leaves and pile them on top of a coffin of colour
I plan to travel. I get a wall map and some red pins, piercing every place I want to visit. This is the closest I have come to violence; the closest that most of us would
but I am not you, no, nor your passive peers. I take the throat of the Earth and shake it
oceans rise, sand swept, country boundaries knocking together like knees. I am asking for peace, don't get me wrong
but who can have that power and relinquish it, go back to stacking fruit and canned peas
I was the ground, air and water, but there was never any fire in me. I was terrified of the flames.
Fire burns and reduces things to ashes, ashes that I am forced to bathe in
the wind blows them into my eyes and I know I am no longer a friend of the overwhelming elements
just an oracle card floating on top of the sea
