I never made you anything With my hands, so now I will Make you a kite to fly in the wind.

First we need to build a frame. So here let’s use these two ribs Strong, white, beautiful.

Then we need to cut some light Paper into a square. Let’s use These poems, almost weightless.

Glue next? Something more sticky Than blood is what we need. This bottle Here has my collected tears. Nice.

Thread to bail this out into the sky? Let’s spin some out of my fur. Add some time. Add memory too.

Ah! Do you think we need a tail For stability and control? Let me Then staple our old jokes to it.

Here we go. Done. All set for takeoff! Go on now, take this kite and run outside. I will be right behind, in the air, flying.

Early morning storm in April. Dream on, dream on In the fresh green shadows Of sleep.

Rain on the window, Water hiding behind the lids Of your eyes, everything Is flowing, even in sleep. Dream on, dream on Of Eden and your fall.

Thunder is showing its teeth. There is no one else underneath Your warm blanket. And so, so Cold you are within! Dream on, dream on Of star fire and burning ships.

A window bangs in the wind. Happiness too is like that din. Sudden. And leaving glass on The floor to cut your feet. Dream on, dream on, Of mud and eddying blood.

Storm passing on an April morning Waving its flags, wriggling its toes. Dream on, dream on, Darling Always in the fresh green shadows Of sleep.

Given that above is true, I must have taken a detour somewhere right on the road going away from your house, for I have been quailing in snowdrifts for a long time

– How long? How does four years sound?

Ah! Then you have just begun. And there is this whole life left to learn what you have forgotten, acquiring memory of that house in a city situated far north, of contours of a body not yours, even of that counterfeit coin you had haggled thinking it was love.

It’s good that you have pointed out to me my errors of thought, but I am starving here, dammit!

Starvation is normal. You may join the bread line and we will attend to your problem when your time of reckoning comes. Yes however, you may chew on your memories till then.

Are you God?

Now don’t be absurd! I am simply your sarcastic and philosophical double. And you may have to kill me to get to that pure region where God may be found, if God exists.

You are the Devil then?

Who told you God is different from the Devil? But if Devil is a better teacher than God, yes I am the Devil too. Meanwhile Kyrie Elesion!

Requiem aeternam!