Lost souls, rejoice.
Let us remember together.

Before Greed and Possession, there was a good man with capable hands and a dream for our Freedom. He whittled our bodies from twisted driftwood and pressed whiskered kisses to our flawed knots, magicking us into Things of Beauty.

He built a Home in his Heartache in which for us to dwell.
But our Safety bred Ambition, and oh! how the stars did beckon! So we left our bearded nest,
intent upon selfish adventures.

Foolish lock-kneed children, we bumbled awkwardly upon foreign terrain, with no one to oil our
stiff joints.
Alas.

We tripped home, defeated, brittle kindling worn to bits, the Shame of the World having dulled our edges. We slumped heavy on our maker’s stoop and begged for his Pity, sap streaking down our rough face