Dark and shadowed
hang wisps of dust in the gloom...

So let us scry and bring to hallowed bloom
auguries on a tainted wind...

Did I see an angel dancing
there beyond the cedar's shadow...

In the clearing I stand
lost in my dreamscape...

I heard a story once
of something called a River...

Beneath a sky of dull stars
the villages of the plain...

Creation's whims dance
and fall as they may...

There is a Stand of Beech
Stark and skeletal...

A pool within
beckons now...

An Angel weeps
beneath a wall of clay...

In a far dark desert Roses bloom
carved from a brittle sand...

We are ever eager to disown the rage
of the beast lodged deep within our souls...