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 ordinary aggravation.
Where a mystery can be bound in two-where evil presences wash in open view. Where regurgitating lumens seize to be sewn Kosative D. talks the disregarded world.
Kosative D. is a maker who gives chaos to pondered rhyme and beat.
He plays with words like mud, tracking down significance with sickening apprehension and clean between each keep down An orchestra of words; music for the psyche. All crossing point the unwritten lines of a philosophical kind. He wriggles the harp of the pen-shakes each sentence with racket and from that point heaves ink to the heartless voids of this world.
Goodness! The channels accumulated the supernatural occurrence! For some, place down in the cave I paused. Some spot down in the sinkhole 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 fakes 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 mutter insider facts to the chafing fixation I looked for-longed for! The obsolete light of legends. Detainee in its limits, The Genie: Rinksle.
An old story from my dad bore the sleeve of a vile quality. This induced the legend was weak and not to be examined. He told me: let the wisp keep quiet in its grave. He admonished me of its harmfulness its antagonism, capably woven into its metallic bundling; that is it.
He showed me in my childhood that I shown something like a bit of effortlessness 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 a few lucky development I were to follow the habits wherein he'd laid for me.
I overlooked his desires obviously; for when he passed on, a comfort bore me arranged. I could scarcely channel through those pesters, yet yielded I would look for this legend for a wish.
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