Dec 31, 2011
A silhouette in the distance
The streetlamps cast their lights
Momentarily cast a flickering glow
On his round hat, his trench coat.
He walks.
Though the night is dark
Though not a soul is awake.
Wandering, searching,
Craving for what he knows not.
He walks.
His eyes are dead hollows
Mystical allure
Of the darkness within him.
He walks.
He moves with purpose
His steps are firm, resolute
His black worn out boots
Yet to see the light of day.
Well past the witching hour
He treads.
He walks.
He walks alone.

The Clan Falleth

Mar 1, 2011

"But kindred elves we be,
How canst thou slay thine own family?"
"Mine thirst for power must be quenchd'd,
The darknes within me keeps me enthrench'd..."
And Dwin'rae slayed his brethren
The land bled,he spared no friend.
The sacrifice made, he awaited.
The ritual pillage done, his soul dissipated,
Calmly ebbing; The Elven Curse didst fall,
Dwin'rae had doomed his clan, once and for all.

An Insufficient Tribute

Jan 27, 2011
He came at a time no mortal man was ready for. His speed, his inhumane abilities could never have been foreseen. He is nothing short of superhuman, his 'Airness' is a reincarnation of the God of Basketball in flesh and blood. No other man so rightly deserves that acclaim, the very fabric of the noble sport stitched into his skin. None could could stop him, none could catch up with him. Gravity seems to seep away as this celestial being rises above all others, his weapon of choice none other than himself. Words are lost, there is nothing but amazement; speechlessness arises out of sheer awe. Some might claim him to be the best, there is a reason why. His name commands respect, and no other being deserves it as richly as this man does. Michael Jordan. A Legend. The Legend.

"To Air is not human, its essence Divine."