Night has died.
Slumber too is slain.
I write again.

I have crept sole through silver midnights.
Always my ears strain to hear Havenian speak.
Always my eyes seek to behold Havenian souls.
Always my spirit pains. My lone Havenian soul.
Be I truely the last?
Are we extinct?

I thought I saw him this night.
Him.
My Father.
My King.
I beheld him through a storm.
Standing righteous and regal before my sand stung eyes.
He embraced for me.
I raced.
Stumbling and staggering and struggling.
Through whip and whine of wrothful winds.
For his billowing robes I reached.
I reached.
For nothing.
And nothing.
And more nothing.
He was nothing.
I cried out his name.
Storm suffocated my scream.
I stood and screamed.
Solitary in the sand.
Till all scream was spent.
I curled back and crept into the stone.
Cowered before the dawn could snare and sting me.
Now here I write.

I am lone still.
My heart has not known the joy of reunion.
Memories are all my Havenian heart has.
Memories that shiver and shimmer before my eyes.
Memories that wave and waver…then sigh soft away.
Remembrances like mirages.
Luscious and lively.
Illusions.
Mirages of the dimlit halls and hearths of Haven.
Of the luminous love and laughter therein.
Of the glorious underground world we fashioned.
Sculpted from silver specked stone.
Secret and safe neath Sandswept Sea.
Secluded from the woes of Over world.
Illusions of a life no more.

I would surrender my soul but to touch a mirage.