Automatic.

There was a chapter left at the edge of your seat, where Mother Earth left the cages open and the blackbirds were finally free to see the mess they made, where the young folks wade, knee-deep in bliss as nightmares fade.

There was a shattered mirror seven years and waiting for your sorrow to be broken, where the Phoenix rises from the grief and is born again into the wild ashes of flames, that seals the pain, with an even-tempered kiss of those who’ve spoken.

There was a dreamcatcher above their heads as they laid apon the stone, where the Sand Man cast his spells to dare lend a feather to the wearied souls that spread their wings, amongst the wickedness of things, in this heart-felt, sacred wish of the atoned.

There was a diamond in the rough buried beneath the altar that laid beneath the sea, where Neptune rotated around the sun to dry the oceans in two, casting the newest hue of blue, shape-shifting wits in twists, forever free to me.

There was a lonely bride at the edge of the board running from her checkmate, where the White Rabbit tuned his gears and set the clock for a race from pole to pole, gathering speed as he fell from tip to root down the rabbit hole, in fear that he’d be late to set the date, but she was gone, fastening will to fate.

There was a God who chased the moon until the night went out behind the stage, where the Sun stood front and center casting shadows on your fears and rendering them crippled to the countdown from 3 to 1 to 10, deep breaths as you remember when, night kissed day, shadows kissed light and hope kissed doubt as we turn the page.

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