schism of the clean slate

Stands miles above his god, legs strong as the cliffs, a body as passive as fabric in the wind. As your God exposes a new slate for your life, you weave a memory within you of the best emotions of best Times. They overcrowd within your belly and the flaps form an organized layer on your split necks. The ones you hold dearest lay closest to the edge, dotted with two masks. Those tend to shake loose, but you dare never loose them. In the midst of remembrance, you stride forward, never to rest in your happiest reflections until the flap on the sleeve of your neck matches the masks of your god's New face.