as i do every morning, i awoke and felt my still-beating heart



i step onto the remains, the vestige of lost architecture. i was not supposed to be here. rocks fall off the side of the cliff, as i grasp for stable footing.

i am mid-way through a step. i go to place down my left heel. my vision is clouded. i struggle to focus.

i realign on his eyes, the eyes, the eye on my left, a wintry storm - my reflection, taken from a bird's eye view, the tatters of this forgotten place covered in never-ending ice. the eye on my right just burns. the world on fire. crackling.

an angel's wings block my view. i stumble, and am caught by his wing. he stares into me. i stare into him. rocks fall off the side of the cliff. the wind keeps my eyes from staying fully open.

he opens his palms. his left palm contains an icicle with a sharp point. his right palm, a spike of magma. it appears to be flowing, but does not lose its form. he extends his palms.

my heart and my thoughts are racing. i feel fear in my throat. my sweat is chilled. my tears are hot. i reach out. i grab both of the tools he proffers me. angels show up for a reason. i figure i should practice what i preach.




i move forward with a cold determination that is also warm.





























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