|A laughter with birds wings.
||[Jun. 24th, 2013|01:17 am]
Gilded days have passed, and I have struck the quotient with my choice.|
Undivided the world wrought by anvil striking.
Firing the burn, and the will to worlds unknown.
Found the combatant of oneself, and oneself is the one to beat for no greater can you be than for those victories against thee.
Alder trees waiting for us looking to shade us multifariously, justly as we tone with shadows gradient.
Wild the heart, and the laugh we set free, wings of our abandonment.