Oblivion
I lean over the side of the bottomless well, watching the murk disappear into oblivion.
The well extends beneath a crumbling castle, rising above me in an array of crenellations and loopholes.
The castle surveys from the top of a hill, gathering fallen chunks from the walls.
Surrounding the hill is a forest, standing on it's carpet of leaves being woven by the wind's skill.
The forest lives on an island, an island that takes a day for a raven to fly across.
The island is in the middle of the sea, forgotten by all but the waves and the gulls.
The ocean is enclosed by a tent with starlight for thread and the sky for fabric.
The stars are all that is left in the world, and I am one of them.
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