A memory in the form of a bird, hiding a message in its entrails. A city that is a tower that is a mountain. The song that echoes between the stars. An angel spinning new wings from delirium. A moss-grown stone with a familiar face, speaking in the wasteland. The temple wreathed in smoke, found beyond the edge of the sky.
Till the fields of your soul and plant the burning seed from the depths of the city. Drown out the beating of your own heart with the cacophony of the firmament. Sing praises to the pain and the suffering.
Bloom. Wither. Transform.