The sky is not empty tonight.
The clouds gather against steelblue like milky wardens of my imagination.
Like giant fingers of the sky-ghost
closing around my eyes, shielding me from the oncoming night.
I feel six again. Infinite, and invincible.
The sky is my limit, until I blow past the sky.
My sword drawing daring lines in the soft dirt, as I march cheerily along
the clovers and chickweed dancing in my nostrils
promising me a better spring
a better time
a greater adventure than ever before.
If only there was
more time
to be six.
So much to do, so much to experience
so many firsts.
And none of the wherewithall to question its intentions.
Not much has changed, really
My steed is a one-eared taurus instead of a mighty paladin's clydesdale.
My pen is now my Excallus.
I'm still the lonely king overlooking this same livestock dotted hill.
without a kingdom
without a princess.
Not much has changed... except the few parts of me that have died,
Also, the few fellow adventures giving up the good fight,
or retiring to their graves.
May my pen never dull, may my steed stay under warranty.
We ride on into the unknown twilight.
To be infinite again.
