In times, when I fain of a season
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itcs chill hold me wist, of an unknown reason
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Greyness upon streams parlous and cool
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Sheer the light which reflects from Plenilune
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Ready to tale stars of wan, as both forwandered,
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and loath the ways thee all ran astounded
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So did thine glaive rust with wind and water
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so terrified of fallow thee roamed to gutter
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Perhaps the fragments of thine willing skin
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saw no reflections of, what it called a bale king
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Neither have Fall's shades descended to leaves
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Of no nightbird's ashes belong to mine needs
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Together a battle raged between moon,
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likely the escorts of an velvect son.
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One lode led to forhungered wood,
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the frith were dark and thus thou run
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As I see nothing but mere piece of meat,
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trying to achieve as vision holds lack.
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Hanging upon wold, not wist the made plead,
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Twisting in gloam, this path fares not back...
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Thus...Of no nightbird's ashes shall I devour.
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-----------------
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Thou Bade Nothingness
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| Thy Serpent |
