In the vestiges of my father’s speech, in his demeanor and memory, there are lessons that I must resuscitate. Words with more passion than the Ages.
I’ve learned to love you queen, from the stories my father spoke unto me as a child. He gave me the expanse in my chest and vocabulary. All these things. What they be, in existence and feeling. I have heard from the heart of a dying man. For my father has been dying since I knew him. And when I told him of you. He knew a passion similar to his youth. He made me a poet. You made me believe in love.
And since I lost him and you, I have found myself telling stories in his fashion. Loving myself in your fashion. I have taken your traits. I have grown in your absences. I will love you for all of eternity, in all eternities.