"There are coarses of souls that
sometimes rupture to our side of reality. When
we travel the planes of dream we dare these
roads and the spirits that he
dormant..."
Evocation
What is this
wind we breath Born of the
nether Eearthwomb that bleeds
First
snowfall covers the tress Over manor of
Haven something stares and breaths
Rose
has crossed the coarse of souls Where oblivious
havens he unfold, untold tales paint the rooms
of old Rose glances the jars just to wake
the dusts of cold
Samhains moon cuades so
distant Wheel of year has turned
again Mirrors prepare to rescave the
dormant greet the sun the morning comes
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