Tale of a Liche

Once upon a time in a land as cold as Hoth there lived a lanky skeleton who’s skull was filled with moths

He found no peace in sitting. He found no joy in standing. One day he started strolling, the road was never ending

The nights were cold, the days grew colder. All the while his bones grew bolder.

His travels took him far, he learned the secrets of the stars. In his thirst for knowledge barred, his soul was ever scarred

He hid away from light of day, the moon illuminating bones. His home a cave, no splendor splayed, the sound of waves below

would lull his mind to tides of time, and sail his mood away. He found no rhyme, no hopeful sign to make him want to stay

Flow, flow let the whitecaps roll as the shore and the waters meet; slow to a stroll as the bells they toll the sounds resound through the street

(To Be Continued…)



About thestrollingbones

Liche like in appearance and Troubadour-esque in outlook. Cosmic Gypsy and aspect of Yggdrasil. Spacey Rambler, Thought~form Gambler, MetaMynd Scrambler
This entry was posted in Cosmic Rambles, Thoughtform Gambles, General Gibberish and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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