It seems I’ve wound myself in.
The weight drops back my head and pulls open my eyes and I can do nothing but look.
It hasn’t stopped the trek,
But it pulls with every step.

I do not want to wish anymore.
Those which come true bare wickedness
And those that don’t
grasp to their necessity
So I don’t want to wish anymore.

And I won’t.

When the myth awakens
I pray the sky weeps
With God’s envy.
Shower the Earth with angelic tears.
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