What a handsome flower, you are, planted amidst the others in my torture garden. I've had my fun with you. I've done the dance and buds have bloomed. Stars wept shimmering songs. Yet, I am still the same.

"A sinking bell tolls," he crooned in my ear, delicately lifting a tuft of hair gone astray, uncovering my face, "you look so beautiful beneath the stars."

The darkness shines and my weeping grows, "take me away--away from the world. I cannot stay long or I think I'll grow old!" I tug at his sleeve like a lost, little girl.

"But, that is life, my dear!" Stay. Mold. Grow old. He glides a backhand against my cheek, breaking the solid wet stain that streams down my face.

"I'm afraid of whom I will become.."

My voice trails off as a raven flies by with ease as it fades away out of view, leaving a profound distance between us. Yet, my eyes search for it in desperation; for some grounding image to bring me back to reality.

Day followed night followed day. Sun followed moon followed sun. The fox chases the hare. The hare hides in the earth, giving it sweet, soft heart beats from below. The earth trembles under the hands of man. The man plants his flag abound and builds, and builds, and builds, and builds, and builds, and builds, and builds, and builds, and builds, and builds, and builds, and builds, and builds, and builds, and builds, and builds, and builds, and builds, and builds, and builds, and builds, and builds, and builds, and builds, and destroys.