The clock has struck its final blow, and the sky brushed the gentle cold across the world below. Idyllic white has come with unyielding embrace, lapping the black from the wounds of plant and person alike. And from the lifted soot was found the spark, dim and tired. But the kiss of promise has not been lost, simply idle under the ash of what once was. What can be forged now, as the simple flicker becomes a furnace again, will ignite the way to tomorrow.
Well well, haven’t done one of these in a while. So it’s time to fix that.
I hope you all enjoy.