The ash will fall over the bridges and the sun will burn out, the world will be mute. Ships will sink in the harbor, the slave graves and restless ghosts at Alta Vista Cemetery will howl, hoot and holler, the elves will cling to the trees, gun metal light and roving hordes of cannibals, you will suffer, broken teeth on the asphalt, men will tear each other apart like painted dogs, their strange gods shall fare no better, this world will be murdered, grieving mothers palms up, have mercy, God made this for me, a place where there were forests that no one owned. I love fireflies in the Summer, forgotten icy grass and the spitting sleet, the densely falling wet snow, the frozen bodies in the water will rot, those that remain will be those who see, those who see when they are shown and those who do not see, beauty fades, art does not, the smallest feline, a masterpiece.