Samekh ס

Samekh is fifteenth, and it is a nail. More appropriately, it is a post.

It is breath released thinly, because all is held in reserve. But how large the reserve is or what kind it is, these things are unknown. For this is all about secrets, and the movement of shadow as the evening falls. Things retire, silently.

Samekh has no magic of its own save one. It remains unchanged but changes others with the irrevocable. Tell it like bad news, say it in the streets in whispered voices. Even then, nobody can tell the manner of its passing, wherever it comes from.