Thought’s shape shifting stories May bewitch your morning glories. Listen to them closely though: Beware of what your fear will show. Their torment, even their carress Will haunt you nonetheless. They blind you, make you see Your bonds and set you free. They wash over...
Storm wraiths cry, the night creeps in; Borders between worlds grow thin. Light of the sun shines soft and weak, Thoughts drift lost in grey clouds bleak. Bereft of scent, air crisp and sharp; Melodies trickle from heathen harp. A cloak of silence heals weary lands...
(N)Euer Senf – mittelscharf, wenn’s geht