Le brouillard foncé

Soufflant avec un vent mauvais 

Les cœurs arraché 

Jamais revenue 


La brume opaque 

Descendante avec les griffes 

Fouets prends chaque 

Boit vos sang frais 


La bueé 

Tiré vous vers la bas 


Vos jeune peau

Dark Fog

Blowing with an ill wind

Hearts snatched

Never returned


Opaque mist

Descending with claws

Each whip takes

Drinks your fresh blood



Pulls you down


Your young skin

© 2020 Rahaman Writing

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Still unsure if you should subscribe? Here's an excerpt from this newsletter's ongoing series:

"One such Spark, but a mere fraction of Order, became the source for all we know upon Okeanós. While spinning and soaring through the many violent tendrils of Chaos, this particular Spark willed for it to stop; for the madness and rushing of void mixed with explosions of light to cease. So it forced the chaotic clouds around itself to shift into a pattern. It gave reason and rhythm to the matter and energy, previously untamed, until the void and light coarsed together, in harmony, at the weaving will of this Spark. Near the bottom of the page sharing this information, it is mentioned that there was a ‘God’ who had succumbed to a Chaos-stricken madness following the learning of these details. How they transferred the information, and what became of them, is not mentioned until the reference section, which I shall get to a bit later, as they warrant explanation as well..."