-III-
November 20, 2010 - 12:51am — The Forest Monk
I find myself surrounded by bitter whispers.
Cold, raging cuts.
Slices. Howls. Screams.
Purity In its most chilling form;
Winters Bitter Kisses.
Im slower than usual. My moods are deflated.
I long for the nourishing warmth of spring,
cooling flow of water; melted snow.
Beginning again.
Love it - I have a strange
I like this. I really do
Same for me- white outlines do seem to show more of a shape to anything. The stag also seems one with the snow- or just surrounded by the storm's bitter whispers.
Nice :3