AutumnShe wraps the swiftly falling twilight about her,Autumn
the last ray of light slanting across her smile. Her rich, tangled red hair covered with leaves... fiery orange, dying green, decaying brown. She smells of woodsmoke,
and the crisp cold of an October night. There are icy constellations in her eyes,
they rotate slowly, each star within dreaming
of warmer climes upon which to shine. Her breath smells of cinnamon, and pumpkin spice... she speaks in whispers, about masks and the runes contained within the flight patterns of migrating birds. She whispers the secrets of sudd
Hell..
--
"We are so much the victims of abstraction that with the Earth in flames we can barely rouse ourselves to wander across the room and look at the thermostat." -Terence Mckenna
--
"We are so much the victims of abstraction that with the Earth in flames we can barely rouse ourselves to wander across the room and look at the thermostat." -Terence Mckenna
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