Clandestine future slinking through the pipe; blamed it for the blemish that fell from six and more stairheads. Broken was he on the pinnacle rocks, bars of the ephemeral gate. Whether the masters gather in restorative clusters, whether the master gather the seeming or leave them, dwindling materials in nightshade close the ferrous passage temporally lightened.
Time skip: where is the herald? Did he not appear?
Twining ribbands of leather fumes weave them up, dwindling into the lowered sky. On below it goes, never grows, small steps and subtle undercuts; we think of it with bending eyes.