Greed.

It was by your act which I came to be.

Suspended in an abyss, separate from a world beyond, yet part of it in turn.

The paid word.

What marvellous truths the written word can dispel when when the wealth of the corrupt springs forth to convince all it can of that which is truly right and wrong.

Cooling.

Have you ever felt the fire? Not simply to cook your meal, or light the room. Not a flame of flickering temporary glow, but a fire which glows and emanates to grow.

Fast asleep.

What dreams do you have there, my child, sleeping in the dark? I hear from you now and then a laughing joy as you drift deep in your sleep.

To open eyes.

I woke from a nightmare. One which encompassed the world.

Not just the world to which I see in passing, in my life and those around me, but one which held the world in a grasp from which escape seemed impossible.