It isn’t an angel that falls out of the sky, or a ship with tesseract wings, or a broken-eyed bit of star.  Like apples and ashes it lands where temptation meets you with sweet stinging kisses, where treachery greets you with soft scouring caresses.  But your heart is a sword and your heart knows its north, and steadfast you stand through the night of nights as the candles in the universe burn down.  Then, warmed by your purpose, the seed-thing stirs and cracks open, uncoiling to grow a new sky.

for YKL