you finish the carving of a sigil and it finishes you
Tag: monostich
within this infernal prism of glass ribs light folds like paper here
the oldest texts are cocoons and if opened right night transforms into neon
void archive the librarian burns spineless books to keep herself warm
human and fey royalty climb down into wells to consult with constellations living there
crawl out from the womb of void and the world is older but you have yet to age
to listen is to embody the design of weather: strength in change
twilight the chaos spire leans on the afterthought of wails
scream into the darkness to fracture the council of light
ever wondered what fuels the void perhaps it is too deep and dark to comprehend
elancharan gunasekaran 