The Son of the last of a long line of thinkers. (delascabezas) wrote,
The Son of the last of a long line of thinkers.
delascabezas
  • Mood: cautious

ominous omens?

On the eve of the equinox, I dreamed the primal dreams. Dreams of the powers of nature striking back while they still could. Dreams that made me want to claw off my skin and howl at the lack of sanctity we have for the life we crush under heel every day.

I need to try and midwife these stories. They have been quickening for quite long enough.

What do I have to give up to have them? This makes me worry greatly. Always, the cost.

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