A cool wind blows
Reminding those of the passing time,
With the setting sun aglow.

I’ve spent too long
locked in this dark
tower
Thinking myself a
damsel in need of
rescue.
But I’m remembering now
I’m a warrior
And capable of
saving myself.

We are products of creation,
And beings of
destruction.

Silence is the great communicator.
It tells when to shut up.

Life is simply an extended period of trying to prove you're not alone.

Dragons are on fire
Winter has finally come
War is to begin

The secret to flying is throwing yourself at the ground and missing.

She stumbled across the streets,
with low light streams.
Casting a glimpse to the rustling leaves,
fearing a soul's hail,
for 'twould free her long-harbored wail.

Her white shroud floating back like a spectre unleashed,
her feeble hands holding tight to the shovel in need;
on she went digging, with all her strength beaming,
waiting not for a second to breathe.

A ditch no less than a bottomless pit,
was what she endeavored to achieve in the late night sleep
to abandon her setback grief.