Sunday, November 04, 2012


Though the wall of truth we built now proves less strong that our vanity made it and though days of wonder, peace and hope shall never again be reborn; ride not into battle now without armour. For comes softly tonight the mountain wind to lay the scent of the world on our sleep. To placate troubled minds and transcend those first breaths that ever we drew when gazing upon the world with a new imagination. For twas then we became free as the air itself; to move in waves across a clouded outlook. The day is now come, the old land is ever to be lost and though we men sigh and the women lament this terror, ever we knew; it would always come to this

 © Edetric Vistal