My Love in a Miser's Purse- for those fair'st out There

Mphaaliid Re-Construction, 5E 913

Sundered prefecture, digital lineage remove,

Chrome-acaulescent measure, -góthi prior... metre//: 3/2 waltz w/ acolyte=v. recollection

[access: Three-Blessings, outlander]

You once chafed when the moth-spores and dust hid in your boots as you trod across the snows with me, which piled up into battlements of interwoven ev’nings spent gazing away at setting magic-phares and the bloom of quantum aurorae, towers to be arcane fanes of time and record the vows we made at dawn. Do you recall what was say’d with scripture-engraven arms wrapping taut, writhing flesh, the singular issue: the childe I myselfe would wrap in scarlet? Markéd normatives of missed collusions, sons taken to sell at star-markets, my Romnod who adored at the curtains of silk which draped me in numinous choirs of river-chanting ghosts, and this cuff of daedal-wrought, glist’rous gold which adorned my wrist, I cast off to you, nirn & nirn, to urð & urð, bones knit with tendons of rotting dragon’s flesh, weaving nimbly between sound and symbol like uncertain snakes. I lift to Xebulon and Chrome-Crux, whisper’d, more sorrowed salutations without your warmth beneathe me- at the cold harbour of afterthoughts.

How you are wrought together- all & one, truth of new phantastic dreams, moon & moon, ash & star, my ladie and my paramour, and childe to the grave given- do you see, notwithstanding the cataract pall which falls in void winds on thine eyes, Her image up Above? I remember coffers of purloinéd jewels of sorcery- necromantic capsules of caught memories- that bought my place here, and the whispers I slipped carefully into sleeping eares like daemon-hebenon, all the while I left you in the worm-dug ravines of oblivion.

You are light, and love & song, ticking away the hours before She goes, singular, abiding-eye pooled with a nectar of regret that will dissolve, given time or given space, into the aether, void-tinged twilight. You slip away into the corridor between dreams, and thus endeth oure tryst upon the passing dunes of moribund Memory.

-to My Beautiful Ones, with apologies long overdue,

Serjo Sul-Morag Relas Jaroon