As a vacant-eyed angel, she appears,
descending from the dusken sky,
neither light nor dark.
Grey.
[get rid of her.]
With hollow intent she silences the shrieking stars above,
the golden haired temptress, the darklings, the unseen beast.
Even Solferine is petrified before her.
She sweeps across the land, soaring with a blunt blade in hand.
Cutting none, drawing no blood, drowning the world in her emptiness.
All I have spoken of falls; all that dwells between this world and that which moves beyond it.
She swallows the field where once my sorrow stood, waiting for his salvation.
And in this moment all is to me, exactly as it is taught to us through toxic rationality.
I see it.
I see everything as it's not.
The sun is winning.