caravans carrying ghosts and lost things settle in the shadow of the tundra
Month: February 2025
the blacksmith wakes in the dead of the night his hands cold and his heart empty the anvil silent as if the only fire that was never meant to be extinguished had fled from the forge of his ribcage
recognize the undoing and step forth on the phantom plank the depth is measured in howls as you leap into the unknown
a dragon nests in the spine of a dark grimoire its wings the ink of smothered souls
every pulse of life and every chaotic spark is a hymn of liberation from the sanctum of void
pale palms sway and celebrate the sublime disorder of cosmic truth
a ballet of ancient defiance and newborn wildness defies the laws of lightrealms