ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
THE NIGHTERTALE SORGHUM
(20—24: Foreseen Presence at 3AM.)
Oh, bury your visage in worry. Something
grievous will hunt its craved place to carry.
Moreover with plausible preparation, no
flint could thwart this mandate. Don’t pray
for idyllic slumber nor amped mare, they
will be poured with the phantom of an owl
instead. To fright the gloom of dusklight,
you don’t have a cave to hide in, do you?
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
THE NIGHTERTALE SORGHUM
(20—24: Foreseen Presence at 3AM.)
Oh, bury your visage in worry. Something
grievous will hunt its craved place to carry.
Moreover with plausible preparation, no
flint could thwart this mandate. Don’t pray
for idyllic slumber nor amped mare, they
will be poured with the phantom of an owl
instead. To fright the gloom of dusklight,
you don’t have a cave to hide in, do you?
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
Forwarded from KHERAELD: Blood & Roots.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
──────── INCREMENTAL VOYAGE.
SOULS WHO LOST, ENTER BACK HOME.
It goes from the decayed wood of a tree. Softly grows from the heartwood, seeps through the cambium, and ceases underneath the ground. It was something named breath. It was breath that seeks every lung, it was blood that flows in every veins. It was the long-awaited chronicle of the lost—of those whose limbs have gone astray, of those whose mouths are sewn, of those whose bones are planted in the mud. “We are in dire need of those from 1990 until 2010 Beholders.” Cease all the dismay. Longing in the ribs has soared buoyant. Intertwine the flame that is buried deep before the root in this realm. Utter the omen through the mouth, although the throats are suffocated.
( ... CLASPED SEATS.) 𖬺 (PROVISO OF HEREDITY.)
For all of the necessities regarding the recruitment, we are merely one root apart to assist through, @KheraeldBot Prevent the rot from occupying the mortal mind, for the bedlam and wrath shall no longer be around.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤROOTED THE BLOOD, @KHERAELD.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
──────── INCREMENTAL VOYAGE.
SOULS WHO LOST, ENTER BACK HOME.
It goes from the decayed wood of a tree. Softly grows from the heartwood, seeps through the cambium, and ceases underneath the ground. It was something named breath. It was breath that seeks every lung, it was blood that flows in every veins. It was the long-awaited chronicle of the lost—of those whose limbs have gone astray, of those whose mouths are sewn, of those whose bones are planted in the mud. “We are in dire need of those from 1990 until 2010 Beholders.” Cease all the dismay. Longing in the ribs has soared buoyant. Intertwine the flame that is buried deep before the root in this realm. Utter the omen through the mouth, although the throats are suffocated.
And the dawn splinters along with my arrival on the grove of @Kheraeld. The name is, [NAME], [USERNAME] wherein disguised as [MUSE, LINE], it is sufficient to say that I am riveted to remain within the custody of Kheraeld. The bloods may intertwine because of the veins that overlap, hence the roots. Permit me, permit me to linger among you as I believe that we align well. Much obliged for the consideration. ( ... CLASPED SEATS.) 𖬺 (PROVISO OF HEREDITY.)
For all of the necessities regarding the recruitment, we are merely one root apart to assist through, @KheraeldBot Prevent the rot from occupying the mortal mind, for the bedlam and wrath shall no longer be around.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤROOTED THE BLOOD, @KHERAELD.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ