 Some of your past stories need to be retold
especially of the beast and the bold For the ones in armor, were not the ones that held you dear but the winged ones that you were told to fear The golden light once told that we sat upon, only comes from within you this treasure we did not seek to keep, greed was your only thought It was always held deep, deep down in the dark within and not outside you those were the false tales that you all once sought
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 Thump thump thump, is it the beat of my heart
that I hear or the flap of a wing that draws near I call to the great ones to surround me and find them all around as I crash into the sea They take me down through the waves past the crust past the graves I see the faces of the ones I once knew when I was a Caller in the land of MU  REPOSTED FROM FITT 2014
Three is said to be a magical number and it would have to be for me because it took three times before I finally believed in the magic. The first time was just a small one; up in a tree branch on a path that I had taken almost every day for the past few months. There it was, I looked up, saw it, thought it was pretty cool and chalked it up to some things I had been reading lately that talked about them. |
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