In the Palm of Her Hand

Veils upon a veil are my armor. It’s my truest shield.

My failings, my sorrow, complete his countenance and give it refuge.

I cannot tell a tale of sorrow for mine has been of mirth unbecoming.

I regret nothing. But the loss of sound.

The sleet; when it fell, suffused my mittens and made my heart swell.

“He knows a world-killer when he sees one, and I’ve ...”

This assassin of mine has  feelings that are out of me.

Because it was always me.

And therefore we and the captain shall live forever.

In the halls of the Hare.


Haastan sitten otsikolla -  The Newfound Song of Hermes