northeon:
hiemal zephyr cuts the skin , sharp & deep , like steel , like the sword that rests in his palms —— they drip , blemish barren ground // they drop , make a silent promise. a cacophony of desperate whispers fills the very core of his mind ( how dare they to violate sacrosanct site ? ) ; but he is acquainted with syllabes sang , o - so - familiar with great canglour. A WORD HE CAN NEVER FORGET : revolution.


















