two skies have fallen one of frost and the other of fire a third sky falls in the form of a crystal songbird as illusion shatters the truth is harnessed from the chaos of felled lies
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the lands of the first flame bears down hard on strangers where dragons molt in reverse turning soft before darkness hardens the underplates the sight of unlit pyres tell a tale of moksha the liberation of soul from body and from the clutches of the evercycle not everyone deserves it but a few do
the unthinkable has happened and time is at a standstill as we walk barefoot across a sea of ash while the world dreams we live out the sins of our curse
wanderers from foreign worlds walk a trail of silver dust high above a black hawk surveys their fate in keen silence
gone are the days of freedom what remains are the echoes and ashes of wartime remnants hoping to inspire a generation that has lost its soul
th river needed no king only the song and secrets of cold currents
trees uproot in slow rebellion and march east into the raging sun
from a grotesque mouth of infinite movement an ancient storm is exhaled
wild magic violently evolves between pale palms in search of its true shape
a serpent of roots and black fire coils round the dying earth with a primal hiss it calls forth new worlds from the void
elancharan gunasekaran 