Imitate the silence within me.
Be it the falling of autumn leaves.
The impressions on the snow I see
Or dreams that saints may weave.
Be the fragrance of the velvet mirth.
Be a stolen stone from the earth.
A shade of darkness and so it be
The silence that is left in me.
Misty Mountain Magic
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Through the mist at the foothills of the mountains
the distance between conscious and subconscious disappears,
melding into one glorious vision creat...
1 week ago

