Hamartia is a noun,

a tragedy,

a hero's befallen catastrophe,

a philosophy,

a book.

A book that has seen raging sadness as violent as that of a livid ocean. It is where refuge has been found and where torment has lain. It is the sacred realm of a dying dawn and the inevitable birth of a breathing night. It is where pain has grown thorns of joy in a garden of heaving sighs. It is an upheaval, a riot, a storm, a quiet. It has the eyes of time and the hands of sorrow, seeing what is not said and touching bleeding words. It is not happy, it is not sad, it is but an enigma into the depths of how long we can hold on, onto shreds of what life used to be and what life was to be.

Hamartia is a book.

My book.

In all its senses,

My Hamartia.