Create, with fire on ten, with driven fire, and the knell of fire; dimming the shapes, the parted shapes and sharpened forking tongues, dreams of feathering blades in the belly of the body. Right fan of left lined framed wind, winding cords of blowing, knotted staves of pounding thrum.

Set up the trill of magnificent winters, never were the standards so ranged, the simmering so tight and tangy, the knife so significant where it lies. Tripled ardour in the set arches, ribbed tunnels under the land and sky; knotted staves take the beating from the stripes of light and shadow under the half tunnelled ways; drag the dream to the brink, and fuel the fire with glittering coals.

2023/01/13 #DailyWrittenOOM