Tag: fiction

to walk the garden is to shed all realisation of self to become less human

best not to dwell the sky here is someone else’s grave

spring winds offered a blueprint for silence

direction to my old self the worm gave me

the woods speak in thunder softly always

silence wears the bones of kings

i dreamt the prophecy in my blood the language of leviathans: unworldly floods

chaos eats its own and the winds bleed salt from tongues

the dragon is weightless a memory carried by the same winds that carried its myth

drink in the black become god or become dust