A poem inspired by the Muse of Cold Earth.
Nero
You were born in a crypt
Rolled in swaddling willows
And you spent the days waiting for the next end
But I said “Wait for her” and held your hand, keeping the numbers tallied as we prayed with
Our fingers
Crossed
Wondering whether
Revelation or madness
Would take us first
To that city where hope is a lit match in the dry woods
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