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I’m fifteen klicks out from Bone Town on the Old Barrier Road.

Her shade’s with me now, distant. She comes and goes, bending reality with each step she takes like a wayward dream unwayward’d.

I carry with me a worn digital facsimile of the “Aeneid, Book VI.” The Styx looms in my consciousness, the Ferryman awaits to convey me over those waters.

But I digress.

And wonder how the Universe tilts as storm clouds bubble up North-wise cast in yellow by the moribund sun in the west.

And my thoughts turn to how in this blast furnace of Life, the torridity mailable-izes us in Passion’s Heat, reshaping us into New Things. Yet, we forge on, careful of the flaming Embers, and all knowledgeable of what this Place offers.

For a moment.

And her shade returns to me. Her shift moves independently oh her gloat as my eyes wander and mind drifts to…

“Time to go,” she says, her voice elusive. “Elysium awaits.”

And she takes me down.