The tyranny of passage is toned by resignation. Unceremonious walkways have become seductive.
Scarves unravel into day passing into night.
Tragedian constellations above white noise conceal ruminations in silent degrees of self-luminous suffering. Brightened breaths bloom, braced by white aurora strewn from a hamlet under hill. Neither left nor right, symmetrically undiluted wave away the frozen dead. Secrecy illumines streaming steps. Ireful, the tyranny of passage is toned by atonement.