Small corners contain hidden remnants, a fragment rolled tightly, inscribed with words beyond kenning. This was spoken across the dimensions, time, and space. I am that I am. A child’s toy, a box filled with plastic animals, a stain on the ceiling. Breathing in the dark, spreading flame mirrored on the wall. In the air is a wheel, a circle, hands holding hands. Not one of them is missing.
Time inverts itself
The person that I once was
Lives beyond the Vale
I really like the prose part. It is so fragmented and haunting.