The Flames
Primal.
Burned into the Collective consciousness
Like a war horn
Stirring the spirit of man.
It demands the
Heart of a conquerer,
For all else will be consumed.
The blood flows
And feet begin to feel once again.
[The cold grass beneath them.]
Air becomes life,
Caressing the skin,
Cooling the burning heat from the body.
The sound of shadows,
Whispers of long lost fears,
Tickling the back of the mind,
Though surely shadows cannot harm
An Immortal.
---
It's very rough. Not entirely pleased with it, but I don't like editing too much. It's dishonest. But I'm out of practice. Maybe I'll get back in form in the near future.
