The figures stood tall, still and poised; they hid me that he may not be found. He was invisible. The walls inside were thick with hate; grief and anger that he firmly supressed, as the outside was coated with gold and honey. The Midas touch that he possessed stirred up pandemonium in the teacup that life sipped through…he hated it, he couldn’t hate them;even for his porous back that was poked severally that now served to illuminate the inside; to provide a vision of light he could pursue. He was too willing, but had to wait for the cage to get rusty, quickened by the salt of his tears; and as she screamed his name from the inside his emotions gave him power; it broke..the guardian cage. He couldn’t use his legs well, and so she helped..the dark star has come home; and is washed sparkling; blinding and they are in awe. For now it begins. “Enough of sleep, slumber and sloth; time to arise and break forth”. And. He. Illuminates. The Awakening.