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Description
The Dragon’s whispers linger in the air, hot burning passion we all hear it. “Do you hear me Bronze One?” He says “Listen well, as a God you can do much, choose wisely.” The God walks on pondering the intuitive words. The Dove chirps in to the Dragons ear from upon his shoulder asking when... “When will we fly, when will we fly together?” The Angel watches on, making notes on his wings never forgetting, a protector, waiting for the Banshee but she has screamed, the Angel hears it from afar, his feather flutter. In the monastery, the Monk moves along looking to the God for semblance. I know this, it must be written, I write it so it can be told for I am the Scribe.