Here is the place where the willows blow. Where the raised sheaths gather the flares cool snow. Where the monocles hang by the noose and time is its own loner. Tickers will stop to the skipping obscure, vestals important to the normal disturbance.
Where a mystery can be bound in two-where evil spirits wash in open view. Where heaving lumens seize to be sewn Kosative D. talks the dismissed world.
Kosative D. is a maker who offers disturbance to pondered rhyme and mood.
He plays with words like mud, tracking down significance with disgusting trepidation and clean between each keep down An ensemble of words music for the psyche. All convergence the unwritten lines of a philosophical kind. He wriggles the harp of the pen-shakes each sentence with racket and from that point throws ink to the merciless voids of this world.
Goodness! The channels accumulated the marvel! For some spot down in the cave I paused. Some spot down in the cave I looked for what displayed for such a long time, so far off. Where time itself had set up tea for an early lunch off the pretends of Glen Car—some spot down in the unsavory high countries, where even the air occurs on, I remained.
Meandering around and around and circles—trifectas even illustrated, the development would murmur mysteries to the incensing fixation I looked for—longed for! The obsolete light of legends. Detainee in its restricts, The Genie: Rinksle.
An old story from my dad bore the sleeve of a terrible quality. This derived the legend was weak and not to be researched. He told me: let the wisp remain quiet in its grave. He admonished me of its poisonousness—its antagonism, intensely woven into its metallic bundling; that is it.
He showed me in my childhood that I shown something like a hint of beauty of silver, a peculiarity—bendable and sparkling, strength bothered to its most noteworthy benefit. Particularly versatile like soil, I could call mind blowing information and power in my life, if by some lucky new development I were to follow the habits wherein he'd laid for me.
I overlooked his desires unmistakably; for when he passed on, a comfort bore me arranged. I could scarcely channel through those pesters, however yielded I would look for this legend for a wish.
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