To:
The Highest Princess of the Mother's Court
To:
The Lowest Defender of Frivolity
To:
The Ancient Limiter of our Greatest Folly
To:
Some Calculation of Divine Premise
To:
Your Grandest Recollection of Sin
To:
Solar Object of Birth and Death
To:
Crier's Task Come Morning
To:
All of these and nothing more,
I hope you shant believe it prudish in my so benevolent request as to turn your switch right, rather may whatever shred of sympathy remains in your dead and dying hands turn for what's left or (if your Excellency should desire compromise) cease the winding altogether. I do most humbly approach your burning throne, your Four Seas cross'd thirty measures through in search of your audience. You see, because of my journey much has already been spent which could well have been by her doing over yours (in the perfection I presently seek, of course!). To be rather blunt, I wish for our fires to fade into eternity, juxtaposed with your irrefutable consent to spend the proper hours in admiration of her every detail. Much has already been spent in search of this consent, and I cannot afford a negative response under your current inflation (or deflation, to be accurate). I request in the very least an extended allowance, though the Sooths should claim an indefinite figure will be all that can suffice.
No, I did not truly expect you to take pity on our case. You see, the result of your cutbacks and belt-tightening has allowed men to live more momentarily, and they have realized that their immediate happiness should supersede that of any individual. Granted you have had no reason to visit your projects these few millennia, but who are we to expect this attention? Over these years of isolation, man with his wicked tongues has conceiv’d some instruments of self-imposition in blind attempts at your command. Machinations of ungodly colour have appeared out of your mother’s air, and the skies become black with blacker thoughts still. These attempts are, as you see, the result of negligence which I am not nor is anyone qualified to state is against your humbled design. Many of these monstrosities should have been reversed if their creators were granted the length I seek! All would invariably have seen their folly in due, given the due to see, as you plainly see.
A small rift is the only request to ever consider! If I were not mortal I would with haste command your claim and with a branch’s wave undo each scream independently. Yet, it is with your mercy that I am even here to ponder such a triviality, which should not prove your superior (I do assume you are capable?). If you are unable, as your present expression of stone does imply, my query will adapt to one of direction: To whom must I walk? I only request you point that dead finger toward the proper pole, as I can spare only thirty more and to command that doubled is to command my work’s death.
With love,
The Highest Princess of the Mother's Court
To:
The Lowest Defender of Frivolity
To:
The Ancient Limiter of our Greatest Folly
To:
Some Calculation of Divine Premise
To:
Your Grandest Recollection of Sin
To:
Solar Object of Birth and Death
To:
Crier's Task Come Morning
To:
All of these and nothing more,
I hope you shant believe it prudish in my so benevolent request as to turn your switch right, rather may whatever shred of sympathy remains in your dead and dying hands turn for what's left or (if your Excellency should desire compromise) cease the winding altogether. I do most humbly approach your burning throne, your Four Seas cross'd thirty measures through in search of your audience. You see, because of my journey much has already been spent which could well have been by her doing over yours (in the perfection I presently seek, of course!). To be rather blunt, I wish for our fires to fade into eternity, juxtaposed with your irrefutable consent to spend the proper hours in admiration of her every detail. Much has already been spent in search of this consent, and I cannot afford a negative response under your current inflation (or deflation, to be accurate). I request in the very least an extended allowance, though the Sooths should claim an indefinite figure will be all that can suffice.
No, I did not truly expect you to take pity on our case. You see, the result of your cutbacks and belt-tightening has allowed men to live more momentarily, and they have realized that their immediate happiness should supersede that of any individual. Granted you have had no reason to visit your projects these few millennia, but who are we to expect this attention? Over these years of isolation, man with his wicked tongues has conceiv’d some instruments of self-imposition in blind attempts at your command. Machinations of ungodly colour have appeared out of your mother’s air, and the skies become black with blacker thoughts still. These attempts are, as you see, the result of negligence which I am not nor is anyone qualified to state is against your humbled design. Many of these monstrosities should have been reversed if their creators were granted the length I seek! All would invariably have seen their folly in due, given the due to see, as you plainly see.
A small rift is the only request to ever consider! If I were not mortal I would with haste command your claim and with a branch’s wave undo each scream independently. Yet, it is with your mercy that I am even here to ponder such a triviality, which should not prove your superior (I do assume you are capable?). If you are unable, as your present expression of stone does imply, my query will adapt to one of direction: To whom must I walk? I only request you point that dead finger toward the proper pole, as I can spare only thirty more and to command that doubled is to command my work’s death.
With love,
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