the hailstones were falling like dragons
attacking the windows of the North Tower
it was a New Moon, the beginning of a golden era,
the end of a long shift

his arm stretched, brought the sun from the dungeon
tied one of its rays, gently to my little finger
and nailed it to the sky with a swift move
the clouds collapsed like a pack of cards
(Queen of spades fell to pieces, like it never existed)
and then he held my hand, his sword and shield
leaning peacefully against the rest of my world

"..there's nothing in the desert and no man needs nothing" - Prometheus

Captain's log. Stardate: now.

Mission 1-9-692-012 accomplished.

The crew is alive. Vital signs - stable, although many seem to be infected with joy which impacts temporarily on their frail alter-ego.

We have come to believe that time is a main factor in depleting reality of its purpose which remains unknown. Consequences unknown.