Goldfinch (The Plated Prisoner, #6)

by Raven Kennedy

There was a star above and a root below. And a world somewhere in between. And for a time, that’s all it was. Space, and death, and gleam. But that star began to glow, she began to burn with heat. And that root, it looked above, fought from soil then to seek. The star that burned, it beckoned him. And the root, it knew to lift. For that warmth that bled into the void, it was an ordained gift. So, from the ground unburied, it looked up to see afar. But that was when the root then saw, it wasn’t just a star. This light that burned and gave its warmth, it was a little sun. Gilt tendrils that reached across the dark, with ribbons twist and spun. And that root, it knew right then. Right there, it saw the heart. For that sun that grew so beautifully, it couldn’t be apart. So out they stretched—above, below, and somewhere in between. And through the space, and death, and time, branches tied with beams. There they are, and there they stay, Paired and tied to core. Dark and light, through realms, they hold. And to Time, they whisper, more.