Cracked stones, sombre and burning Burning with grief, with rage at loss. Innocent lips, parting the eyes Raised to meet the albatross. Icy trees capped with thunder
Back where the skytide shatters its last Against the shadow of the silver door Back where the hornglows flutter beamingly As Fire and Brimstone Is where I'll wait Until I can wait no more.
Lost am I for a second in a forgetful plight to the world beneath the water. There is a gryphon, frozen in glass, making mummies of horseshoes to spite the name.
Cackling laughter wheeling down cracks of sky A scavenger, a thief - A nonconformist sheep bereft of shepherd. Surveying its pitiful world with a greedy gaze Alighting on morsels.
