CauterizedSeptember 12, 2009
You suggested once that your friends go with you to Black Rock City to help you incinerate what was left of us. When I found myself there, I wondered if you ever made it.
On a bare patch of wood at the Temple’s third level, I wrote a message to you, to me, to everything flourishing in our wake.
I was already home when the Temple burned, the ashes cauterizing the wound I carried too long. Miles away, I cried, bidding final farewell to the tumultuous heat, the embers that whispered my message before turning stone cold.