Deep inside the wrinkles
of the Blue Mountains
Cold air sits upon
the primitives' throne
Inky echoes stroll the alleys
No living essence have ever
trespassed these halls
Sun's breathe becomes pale
as it touches the gloomy
foothills and crests
Merely sprites wearing
mantles made of mist
dwell this mountainous region
Even rain seldom visits
to pierce the ghastly silence
Amidst the fog
forgotten tokens may hide
In riddles of old and
astral vague light
Nov 3, 2018
Nov 3, 2018 at 12:57 PM UTC
Deep inside the wrinkles
of the Blue Mountains
Cold air sits upon
the primitives' throne
Inky echoes stroll the alleys
No living essence have ever
trespassed these halls
Sun's breathe becomes pale
as it touches the gloomy
foothills and crests
Merely sprites wearing
mantles made of mist
dwell this mountainous region
Even rain seldom visits
to pierce the ghastly silence
Amidst the fog
forgotten tokens may hide
In riddles of old and
astral vague light
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