Ashes from last night’s performance are blown from the stage of stone as the aluminium gears flow by like chariots. The air is adorned with loneliness and malice because of it. The beaks peck up every last grain and every last drop of the meagre offerings of the rubble.
The sun will still shine after the ash has been blown into the ground.
The children will still smile
And the derro’s will still dream of a heroes welcome.
For on this day, we seem to forget the blatant past if only for a moment and we rejoice in the timeless beauty that the future may bring us.
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