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In Winter's Heart


Spindle
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[!] The following would be obnoxiously pinned across all available flat surfaces - including all the various Almarian mothers.

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Netzhal Kazimira Othaman

— ✠ —

 

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On a cold night in winter’s heart,

                    A man came home and lit a spark;

He forsook his boots, and sweater too,

Then to his study, the man withdrew.

 

Whereat he saw, a great big mark - 

                    Upon his walls was there an arc;

Then he drew forward, and forward again,

And lo, he regarded it then;

 

A scrawl of text in black and blue,

                    Who’s print was cold like frigid dew;

Pronouncements not in words of men,

Made clear in the umbral casted den.

— ✠ —

 

 

From The Author

Should you wish to find me, I am currently residing in a great big wagon - machine, wooden walking contraption

 

[!]

The following illustration was attached.

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