And He placed inside a VAULT vainglory, a spark with which to set himself ablaze.

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Beneath twin stars we bade farewell to REASON, recalling instead the violence of our youth.

For those were WINDSWEPT days, where fear ceded every step to buoyancy, leaving nothing still.

The world itself was unbound, unordered, a collection of exoterica still UNKNOWN to our small hearts.

And to us the brook was wide as an ocean, the clearing a kingdom at rest, two MONARCH knights among the butterflies.

Our blades WHIRRED at each other's throats, shouts of joy mingled with laughter, her arms bruised and my dress muddied.

And so we stood against the HORDE, insanity alive, blood and blood and blood expressed in quick and quicker strokes.

When our hearts faltered, we drove on, compulsed to action by memory and breath, a final GAMBIT to hold the storm.

Thus even war felt like the garden, a CHORUS of crows held too close; the last among them wild for rye.

And while the city fell, we stood, drenching the bleeding hills in lightning and DIRGE.