February 2025 – Page 4 – elancharan gunasekaran

we listen we remember the winter wind does neither she bites at the living who ignore her

days dissolve into mist the freed golems listen to the birds and carve poems into cliffsides

a stranger plucks the strings of winter winds the black grey of storm clouds unravel as lightning rains down obliterating the fleshlands until fingers can play no more

in a tower of metal tongues traders sell fireflies bottled in bones

winter dawn the sparrow is a reminder that freedom comes with a catch: wings

perhaps the memory is stored in a different dimension and regurgitated by the human brain when required indicating an efficient and strange bio mechanism that triggers subconsciously

chaos does not archive it devours as pages crumble from a dark touch

the honey has soured the wildlings barely exist and the trees speak in anger grinding rust between bark and root

winterdeep’s cold spared none even mages burnt their spellbooks to keep their minds warm

hum of voices from behind the wooden door open it once and be greeted by a vortex of black wings open it twice and behold a sight of sleeping swords tell me when you’ve had the chance to open it thrice