One voice whispers.
Gathers, threading a symphony on the wind.
They blanket our world in a mist of magic.
The howling peaks.
And then, as stars in a morning sky, each one wavers–
Blinks out.
Leaves the world waiting, wanting, in silence.
One voice whispers.
Gathers, threading a symphony on the wind.
They blanket our world in a mist of magic.
The howling peaks.
And then, as stars in a morning sky, each one wavers–
Blinks out.
Leaves the world waiting, wanting, in silence.
A wingspan of ash, she scours the sky for signs of a way forward.
Beneath, the writhing landscape of a future so foreign we cannot yet comprehend which color she will be.
Melts the sun
With her ferocity– stripped away,
Turned into fragility,
We gasp as moon swallows sun.
Comments
Log in or register to post comments.