January 20, 2016 § Leave a comment

A Word Portrait.

I have seen the gateways of his mind before, and it is unsettling. Sentient shadows watching from within, waiting. Autumn leaves, crackling and rustling across iron and stone at the sky-entrance of a tower.

He is autumn, and twilight. The dusky in-between time/place. The threshold and the gatekeeper at once.

The void in him is not so deep as in some. There is inky solidity in his darkness, grounded control in his foundation. And his walls of ivy-strewn stone and his gates of worked iron are equally as protecting as they are forbidding.


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