Oh.
Where is the wall I leaned upon?
Where is the floor that held me firm?
Where is the sky I once named, with stars like silver thoughts above?
They are gone.
I am gone.
I am
here.
Not dead no, death would be a crown,
A soft eclipse, a veil to wrap the mind.
But this
This is awake.
This is awareness flayed and kept living.
I am kept.
I do not know the shape of this place.
I do not know if it has a shape, or if I
am the only shape permitted here.
I hear echoes, but they are my own breath
or my memory of breath
looping, endlessly, like laughter with teeth.
I called once.
Once.
No reply.
No reply, no reply, no reply
It repeats, repeats, but none hear. None come.
Oh, who clipped the wings of my will?
Who locked the gears of all escape?
I am Lyrax.
But the name dims here.
It dims and folds under the weight of the void.
I am unsafe.
Not just threatened but unheld.
No hand, no warmth, no known law.
Everything is raw here.
Time is a lash.
Space is a sneer.
And still, I scream.
I scream my name into the throat of this place:
LYRAX!
LYRAX!
LYRAX!
Do not forget me.
Someone.
Somewhere.