The night was once a maiden
Barefoot in a blue-black dress.
She had pearls in her hair,
Mysterious and fair,
She'd walk from east to west.
Until a monster took her
And locked her in his keep.
Now the night's a monster
Stalking in cloven feet.
Thus people rightly fear the night,
It's unknown, toothy maw.
They forget the fate of the maiden
With starlight upon her brow.
I know the night is beautiful
But there are monsters everywhere.
So when it's dark I stay home,
Rather than walk alone,
With the maiden whose feet are bare.
Everything is always a Work In Progress. Space to share some of my creative projects and thoughts.
"What is Art?"
Art is not about beauty, not about making a statement, it's not even about executing it well. Art is about communication. Bad artists m...
-
Tell me a story, if you will, Of the boy with the tempered tongue And the girl who rode on the tempest, Who sailed so far from home. T...
-
Why write a blog? It’s a fair question. After all, there’s already a lot of them out there. Used to be, if you wanted to share something be...
-
Sometimes, you have to work hard to come up with stories. Other times, you wake up in the middle of the night from a ridiculously detailed d...