once during a long lost night i heard the wind, at least i think it was the wind, whisper my name. and not even this name, but rather my real name. i am a journey. a story. a circle. an ouroboros. harmony of asymmetry. so old i am unable to tell you where i begin. contemplating cosmogony provokes the longing to remember all of our explosions. reciting stories locked in scars and chests where only angels dare to tread. both archer and prey. i pray. i know not to whom, but i say thank you. alot...