The sun impresses fire into my being.
And.
I want to steal it.
And bury it deep.
In Tyrannus' depth.
I walked among the funeral pyres.
Caked in the dust of so many dead.
Things.
And.
On the horizon is coming autumn.
In the air is stinging winter.
How many cycles left?
How many austerities.
Til I break through.
To the Gods and spirits.
And, offer my taboo trickster spirit.
Some blood.
From a sacrificial offering.
