Repel Lent

You are my brush. The floor is my canvas. I have learnt the forms and now must sweep you, this way, then that, to create beauty.

I am there to exhibit you, to show you off, but also to lead and control you.

You are there to follow me, to feel free on the paths I lead you down, to move as I direct.

We are balanced, a constant circle that knows no beginning nor end and that must proceed with care and grace and, not least, elegance.

I flipped them all. Each arced high into the fluorescent night and returned safely to its hot home. Then they were slathered and encrusted, prior to being consumed.

I stared at your one giant eye and you fed me tales of fantastic places, after a fashion, before I went once more to dream and begin the nightmare anew.

You're still there, although they say it won't be long. At least they have afforded you dignity and privacy this time, much like I suggested all those months ago. I hope you feel peace and no fear, for there is nothing to be afraid of. The ones left behind will feel all the pain.