Journeys I

Let one cloak drop
Pick another from the depths
A meal of blood and raven’s flesh
Lingers on my lips

A land of barren bones
Blooms colorful and bright
And a tree of many fruits
Ripens in the light

Hands grasp at furs
The grey-hued pelt
The face of a mother
Voice cracked with spells

From this pleasant land
Indescribably pure and true
I must flee lest I find comfort here
Take the root out and through

A shift, a step, and I’m home again
Without returns to within
All it takes is a trick to come back
The story shapes the key

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