I've had that dream again.
That strange place, so distant, yet so close to my heart. Buildings as tall as mountains. Dead structures, watching with dead eyes. Empty, vast and endless honeycombs of stone and steel. Air filled with gray ashes always fluttering from the clouds.
The black vortex opens up in the sky, descending into the city. The vortex spiral tears the city apart, bending the air itself, feasting on light, feasting on time.
There is a lonely figure standing in the street. No matter how hard I try to make out its expression, I cannot. Is there no face there at all? Or perhaps there are a million human faces, intertwined and flickering in unison, as bright as the light of ten thousand suns? The being stares into the abyss. It takes another step towards it, the horizon of nothingness, a place where nothing can exist. The stones of the roadway beneath its feet crumble and flutter in the air, colliding with each other. Has it no fear of the black void? Perhaps it thinks the void cannot affect it?
But can it affect the void?
I suddenly realize that the being is searching for me, and that I am its servant. The faceless one speaks. It plans to drink the vortex dry. It plans to find me.
The faceless one will surely take me away from my home.
I awake, covered in sweat, my heart pounding, terror gripping my mind. I have to see my Angel: he always calms me down in times like these.
For me, mirrors never work. The surface of reflection doesn't show me what is, but instead reveals some twisted parallel reality. Perhaps for me the mirrors are so thin that they reveal the true manner of things?
All my life I've seen my black and white knight in reflective surfaces and mirrors. As far back as I can remember, the knight was there for me and I could admire his wonderful and strange armour of patches, his face-shield made of materials foreign to our world, his gorgeous lenses of blue cobalt, as sparkly and blue as my own eyes. â€śThis is nothing odd,â€ť my father had told me, â€śhe is your guardian angel, and he is always watching over us.â€ť You should be proud to have an angel in these dark times of despair.
If it wasn't for a hired painter, I would never know what my face actually looks like. I caress the surface of the mirror, seeking solace.
Oh Angel, my Angel,
Wherever you be,
So calm so serene,
Always watching oâ€™er me.
My brother? My lover?
My heartstrings aflutter,
So close, yet so far,
Youâ€™re my knight, guide, and star.
Would you tell me please?
Put my poor mind at ease?
What will my tomorrow be...
What fate awaits me?