The spirit folds away your senses – your skin and heart and eyes all the same to me. I must meditate upon your name. A transparency innate. Your skin is sharp-tasting and soft, altogether. Velvet and textured and elastic – the scents of religion and sweetly bitter almonds. Your forearms are my favorite. Your eyes gleam with the stories of futures untold and stories long past. Brown and brief and...
Am I still able? Does the art still arrive, or have I lost my powers? The beauty and indescribable grace inherent in a powerful piece of prose are heartstopping. Do my thoughts still have depth? Can I still reach you? Do my words echo through the delicate fabric of thoughts, the crisp complacency of paper, the stiff glossy embossed cover and true type fonts – do I speak to you as plainly as if...
His wisdom was unearthly, his wise eyes steady. He grew and shrank, his steps became legend. His feet, holy, consecrating grounds for centuries to come. He flew – not like a bird or bat or insect, but as a God does. His tail prehensile, he was feared in combat. A mighty battle-leader, the strongest and most beloved of his clan. He belonged to the Old World, where eagles spoke and demons walked....