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From the Ebon WoodWhen sky and soul like mirrors are, this spin like slowlight, slow gavotte; and to the center, from the center, Taeosil, gate of stars and lines: Here the web of realms entwine in silverquick bright threads of life.From the Ebon Wood
Your hands rise, palms moon-curved, cupping eyes in darkness (carbonblack to echo night), but those shapes that boil behind lids held tight echo that deepspace churning sky.
So from Ringwil step into stark define: A realm of blackness, light and walls; a world of silver, life and cause.
Your histor
by ~soma
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