Vast, the Valley of Promise.

Narrow the promontory we stand.

To the left and to the right and far into the distance, a harsh, unforgiving span spreads profound with uncompromising daggers stabbed deep in the blood-stained realms.

A frigid, frightful moon injects the slumbering gloom with Death’s blue hue.

Biting winds swirl around, growling like angry, rabid wolves.

Earth grumbles, fraught with heated tensions.

In the Valley of Promise, the impassioned raging Rapids of Accord surge a torrent of icy white caps, eroding the smears of reproach with vicious intent.

Silver mist, a deceptive velvet…

A flower, delicate as the course of eternity, breaks through the crack of reality.

Raven’s Head Stew

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s