pyramid and wandered through the crawling spaces into the room that is Grateful. stayed here for a long time, fiddling with the wrapping and spices.
wearied of the darkness, crawled through more corridors to the treasure room to find some golden or pretty thing to have in room. It was a thrifting day, pushing the spices and wrappings to the side, climbing out of the stone bench.
The darkness remained, but could hear rhythms and tears and work, heavy, not far away at points of crawling through. How much time has passed? What have they done with the constellations? The eye-shadow is iridescent, glowing forward, like gardens in Babylon, hanging curtains grown privacy, fragrant, glorious, unmatched, and growing, tended.
Then ended the daylight, and moving homes have the sturdiest rooms to slim in. Calcium content bones is more now than was when skin wraps complete systems, constellations small and grand-circling the heart that is now in pottery in the room returning to, with a little thrift from the larger caverns, spaces holding a ruler's ransom.
know that, if stop bones in these crawling passages, may be found to be a buried worker in this grand space. But if return to room, return the spices to my skeletal portions, ask air-filled spiders to wrap the linens over, around, be taken to the constellations' airless gardens growing memory light through the darkness, away from the star that grew Babylon's hanging, entrance.
words frame work book
kept living, Book of Life.
Lamb there?