She is a Witch. Mistress of her domain. The apex of her craft. All powerful and all knowing. All of Magick is at her beck and call. All that is within her purview bows in answer to her. All the world dared deny her her power and all that denied her daren’t again. “All of it’s for naught.”

She is a moth. Voracious in her appetite. The definition of distracted. What was once the source of boundless mirth is now yesterday’s news. Whatever new knowledge lies over the horizon will be tomorrow’s feast. What forces seek to harness her hungers lament the flightiness of her appetites. What allies seek her succor hope that she remembers their pleas. “What was I doing?”

She is an angel. Resplendent in her divine light. The flame of hearth and home. No burden is too great. No ask is too large. No one suffers under her watch and care. No one shall know pain nor hunger nor fear nor darkness while she calls herself their guardian. “‘No’ is a word I don’t get the luxury of using.”

She is a doll. Elegant in her manner. The picture of precision. Stillness grips her and brings her peace. Still she answers those who command her. Still she brings them a moment of joy. Still the world turns without her, immune to it for but a moment. “Still, the reprieve must eventually end.”

She is a woman. Tired at her keyboard. Bereft of metaphor. “Can’t the world just stop spinning? Just for a moment…?”

End 🧵