You speak to me from a dream. A darkness, one never new.
Always with that one sound. Shallow, and slight.
A stream. Catharsis. Treasured, and true.
We venture into hallways of fire amidst hollow light.

'Are you with me?', I'd ask as I have done many times before.
My voice, a sharp, bleak noise that breaks the moment that found us.
For someone so small, your spirit seems spun from the mountains of Evermore.
Your answer, a melody strung by a golden harp played on the cusp of dusk.

"I am, I will be, today and for all of eternity".

You speak to me from a dream. A blanket of brightness, renewed.

Penned by my hand on the 10th of Scarlatan, in the year 928 AF.