The Village

transmission_by_talonabraxas-d9ux0c6.png

There is story here
made up of carbon and dreams
the essence of words

morning in greyscale
the muse, ever transient
never turning back

each soul a sonnet
as the whirlwind consumes them
and the pencils scratch

artcredit: http://fav.me/d9ux0c6

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