An ode written for Fyr, bearer of the title of the Dark Prince of the Void and Night, whose realm lies among the Great Fir Woods, inhabited by his worshippers the deerfolk and various forest-fays.
Category: Poetry
Wolves at the Gates II
With silence they arrived,
then a knock on the gates…
Pounding! We rise to feet!
There-there, howling rises.
Wolves at the Gates
They knock, they knock…
We are sitting in silence.
The wolves at the gates.
They have arrived at last!
The Persian Stallion
O! Blasphemy! O!
The Snake
And arises the hidden voice…
Lovers’ Deception
Fear the snake and be careful of the shedding lies!
Guidance of the Wind
Meditation is a key or a path to the inner self. To reach the inner sanctum of a human being born through losses.
Steering the wheel by yourself — being the master of your own fate — is the hardest of challenges.
Crimson
Crimson of the fallen heart…
Black Letters…
Black letters as grim leaves
of long withered pale trees
fill the graves of true lovers.
Surrounded by Yellowing Leaves…
I like to just sit on a bench and silently watch. The world is a fascinating place, forever telling stories. With a bit of imagination even the smallest things can be interesting.