Roaming spirit digging many wells, forming no clear path to heaven nor to hell, will wear many faces, that much is clear, but honest with myself I’ll be throughout the fear – through the laughs and the tears, through the anger and the cheers, through the joy and the pain, through the love and the profane – mental stability be damned, I am who I am: confident, prideful, a king without a kingdom, blessed with many friends and foes, I’ll love and then I’ll wean them, lost and weary of the light, but never weary of a fight, sometimes dancing without a clue, depending on which well I’m digging through.



Painting our illusionist 108 words a day.

For Dungeon Prompts: No Matter Time Nor Place.


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