To live like carrion? To suffer or to survive? I live because my bleeding heart breathes instead of drowns. I live for love, for a love of where I came from and where I will go. I live for the adventure of love, to learn and to grow, to die and be resurrected. I live because someone special keeps my heart beating and my mind craving for more of what life has to offer. I no longer dream to escape from the abyss. I dream no longer of surviving, crying or whining about why I cannot be who I dream to be. No, I dream of driving, thriving, and fighting for the dream to chase after me. To press forward. This piece bleeds off into the roots of the canvas like a tepid gash, and ascends rawly into the opaque sky like one of Odin’s ravens. It is a piece of power, of androgyny, of strength, and the mirror to the drive of hunger. My eyes are trails of blazing light – of stardust – and fire. It is a call to power; a call for us to rise and rage against the dying of the light.