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From the farther stretches of time, the winddancer speaks to the masses who huddle in memoriam of the warriors who died in battle. "Hurdle me through the burning flames and my showering gifts of sanctity shall be your lonely, brutal, mark. I wish to be shelter for the lost birds on a cold and rainy night. For to be humbled is the power that resides within the sanctuarly of man. Single me out, and you find me abreast in the shallow graves of thunder. For the brisket melts tainted drones and relinqueshes the thirst of the beast that dwells within every pulse of the Holy Light. The chimes of heaven shall ring through the ears of the plentiful in ways which I shall enlighten you when you days of wonder shall dive into the frothy waters of euphoria."

Around the waters base arises a cryptic song that is fortified by the loving hands of maple trees. For they caress shouting breaths of fire, and submerge it into the heavens saying, "Arise, you cowardly beasts of burden. For tonight you shall learn to dance to the steps of savory whips. Bleed me into your icy couldron. Plead no more for merciful acts to be restored upon your vanquished head. But bury weeping stones inside the belly of Mother Earth. Away. Away with you, I say. For I shall drink this cuplet and be dressed in sanctified shrouds that have been milked in cryptic dreams of the Psalms. I have become a new song that breeds this shower into your most sacred tomb. Battle me no more, you vicious aura. For I shall burn into the crystal sky, and before embraced in the light of Heaven.

Learn more about this author, Joanna Maharis.
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