The Gift

Uncategorized 0 Minutes

Start writing.


Carving stone with a feathered quill

Wading upon the depths of the breaths of the gods, who stammer out rules that no one can abide

I walk beside ponds that are shallow as they are round, and bask in the warmth of dying suns

Stars are born, littering the path

Steps are lighter and the path is brighter.


Published by littlewren17

I am a novice writer, I am interested in creating a site to make public my work and see what happens. I hope to inspire and be inspired. I do not have a genre (yet). My goal is to write daily. I wish only to let the wind take me where it wills.

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