So, it seems we are a good way through this thing already, but there is so much more to look forwards to! Here’s today’s poem!
Tendrils of ice wound their way over golden fields
Bringing cure and respite to those burning women so cold
Under streaking moonlight the fragments receded into wind
Whence comes the symphony of misbegotten prayers
To the pretender God whose eyes snapped shut
In the void of ancient eons where we are alone
Before that one with such passionate pupils so sweet
Where midnight kisses drown forever the morning
With the nightshade whispers of a happier memory that this one
Thus draws in dusk and lulls us into slumber
So do we become one of ice and rain
We are no longer burning
Now is the age of frost
Short, I know, but thanks for reading.