cold bones of ash brush down hidden in seeds of carbon flesh of daoine sídhe commend both sides with grief it’s flowing down running around madmen on toadstools squawking of sound many moons to see poison was free move on down into valley maple, rust phoenixes of dust have come upon thee, naught be here now come on down death moves quietly evening nightshade no wheat to sow nor corn to grow just bones in ash ashen tones seeded in carbon no more disease just nothing now, bereft empty seasons of greystone snow all journeyed onto great halls below o … Continue reading Ashen tones