My life lies open like a tattered book written with the blood of time, punctuated by the tears of experience. Memories press between the pages like fallen petals. As I near the final chapter I rejoice. I soundly sleep, my head upon the autumn s leaves, my soul at rest from the sweat of toil. The crusade rings from the sound of trumpets as the notes form chords of harmony.
Chapters turn discord into aria.
Proudly I stand birthed betwixt Aquarius and Aries, south of Andromeda, sensitive to fear, while tolerant to the ills of being. With the ken of soiled pages to protect me I grow in stature with their turn.