Nebula, they call you. Or maybe, simply, Dreamer...
Nebula, They Call You
Star-Lit Sea
We live anon unto infinitum, we may do things we can't perceive...
Hearing the Stars, Pt. III: My Name
It is my name they call. My only task henceforth is to learn my own name.
The Decadence of Paroxysm
What has one got in an ember Without a flame, one cannot see Foreboding winds fill November But it is not a winter freeze Why should I, in fear, abate The breeze inside, not yet a gust The twilight sky will my heart sate Not simply an impending dusk So I free my... Continue Reading →
December Rose 