The time of regeneration begins,
in dark and underearth, it flares
elemental synthesis. Dredging
the forsaken places to haul forth
phantasms of lives that never
began and those that burned.
These are our informants. Nights
we hunt dreams. This dream
I cast spells with the cards but
I don't remember what for. I know
it's for a future whose vague promise
I have lived for even as that dim
light remained at a never-nearer
horizon.
I think of a couple I saw.
She was bleached blonde
with panda eyes and too young to
know that he's useless. It's possible
that everyone has been thus far,
and she's hoping for that one who
won't be actively evil. Tall order.
Time to die a thousand times.
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