An ivory tower climbs above the soft, clear clouds. Its majesty peaks beside the sun of late afternoon in an embrace of glory in a regal ballroom. The city below is entranced by its own reveries of pain and lust, while the Pegasus gazes upon it from its Empyrean abode.
By the city’s port swims the Swan of Dreams, sun-kissed, starlit – a graceful sight, a loveling. From her back, red roses blossom and wave in the breeze.
Unbeknownst to the citizens, the Swan passes by as it is her journey to be.
Her eyes are diamonds of sacred curiosity, yet the citizens miss her dock for their own sentence of death in life perpetuated by the ebb and flow of oblivious breath.