I have not seen the three Spirits again.
I wish to. Chains are all around me. They rattle in the harness clatter from a passing coach. They chime in the ruckus of the blacksmith’s shop. I dream of chains, chains great enough to bind the world. I dream of Marley, too, of asking him if we ever break what we fashioned in ignorance. He never answers. He need not.
Oh! if I am heard in the dimming of my days, send another Spirit, some consuming fire to unforge my past and make my future new. It I would gladly fear.