Dear September Knight,

Oh, the thinning line!

The portal opens my eyes.

I told the crows about the audacity,

and they reminded me . . .

It’s me—not him.

But it’s not—

mostly not.

It’s delusion and anger—

mostly pain.

They showed me gaol,

lies that kill,

but mostly pain.

I recalled the liquid “courage”

from one, oh the wrath—

I recalled the superiority

in another—

false

like all the others . . .

Rude confidence defines

Then came about

A feline—

She told me something new:

“Turn it around

and become audacious you.”

She redefined for me

the fearless, daring possibility—

pure, aligned,

strategic and brave,

a quiet vision

it became.

Love,

Cleo

Dear September Knight

09/25/26