The little prince

He doesn’t belong to any known eon, and he doesn’t have a place of birth. He lost his home in a tear, back there somewhere. His existence is not connected with time or space. He’s wandering, drifting in orbit in a chilling silence, a dark void full with nothing. Some creatures have lost their guardian angels; well, he’s one of them.

Carefully he looks at the end of another passing day, defaced as much as it can be. That time of the day is always resented, a feeling which brings out some sort of a defeat inside him, a degenerated reminder of a helpless cry. This little prince, sad because the sun is going to sleep somewhere in the west; a recurring feeling running away from reach, endemically fading into a secret sorrow. 

The importance of that moment can never be forgotten, that most wanted pain which defines him is highly treasured, kept safe and secure… a pain well nurtured with an utmost respect, ever present sweet torment.