Deep with justice. Deep with help. A bloomlet let go. Petals weeping

The hang-dog face. I made an atlas with notes from the old self.

That world lost -- rotting at the bottom of the sea. Will it come back?

Things lie dormant for many years but bloom again. It happens all the time.

What planet built a clock in its memory? Some type of forgiveness

That is just out of reach. Who would do