I would detach my limbs from my body if it meant a truly achievable freedom.

Flames burn around me, reminding me of the fact that warmth is still possible, even in such a state of true desolation, where the sun doesn’t seem to want to shine.

There was once a time where I felt an all encompassing warmth, now merely shreds of tattered memories, flashes of gold and dandelion flooding my vision.

I want to return home.

The one thing I’ve learned over these years, as they have flitted by so quickly, is that “home” will never be a place. I long to be with my people — until they find us or the land swallows us whole.

But, I know I have to keep going. Their music is what moves me, urging me further forward. Petals that once came from sweet dandelions have been replaced by ones from rich carnations, and their songs fill me with feelings adjacent to hope.

All I can do these days is hold on to hope.