The great cities have forgotten their mystery. In the airborne skyscrapers no one recalls the time before, recalls the harsh world escaped. But the dreamer dreams, and his thoughts alight: into the sky he’ll fly. Like some lost sailor, tempest tossed, he’ll away to Pandraz where the mysteries were first discerned.
The cities sink, but his balloon will lift them yet.
(Life has occurred in such a manner as to make a normal post impossible. That is, I have been taken away from the quiet room and computer where I normally write and have penned this over my tablet. Please enjoy, and excuse any egregious grammatical errors.)