My Soul, be kind.
Kinder than the flames that threaten to spill
Out into frustrated sighs that burst into screams
My soul, be kind and kinder than broken dreams.

Of misplaced longing spent in timeless century,
Of flightless minds, erasing memories,
Of a kind of love, an obsession that questions,
A knife to the throat stuck in digestion.

My Soul, be kind.
Kinder than the start of a deepening hatred,
Bubbling, fervid, fueled by centuries of love neglected,
Birds don't fly in vengeance and of those infected.

My Soul, be kind
and let go.


Penned by my hand on the 19th of Scarlatan, in the year 956 AF.