Dearest friend, dear Old Light,
From an open window, wide, of the tallest turret, in the northwest quadrant of the palace in my mind, as dusk settles, a pall shaken and spread over the landscape, I, standing at the round dark oak table with a myriad and multitude of uncommon literate minds, a herd not unfamiliar to you, gazing northward toward your Paris-like lighted studio and conscientious cupola, as the church bells toll, we, each, raise an orb of hand blown glass, damming a perfect pour of a blend of fine red wine, with layers of dark red fruit complimented by hints of vanilla and mocha, to salute you, your low talker, the folly, your steep spiral staircase and your celestial catwalk to the moon.
With some success, trying to get there, early,
“Truth is the bottom of a bottomless well.”
– Sebastian Venable
“Truth is the one thing I have never resisted.”
– Catherine Holly