Soundtrack to the newly deceased being baptized in the river Styx, while living shamen ply those waters on rafts of mirrors; to worms carving slow-motion tunnelways through the subworld, leaving porous three-dimensional sigils in their wakes. Ode to pillars of flame burning upward and columns of rain pouring down, contradictory elemental verticalities. To drear post-plague years when locust husks are all you get for dinner.
(Port of the Sun)
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