In the woods behind my home
there’s a story quite untold
it speaks of whispered broken vows
and all-engulfing cold.

There are foxes sly and birds of prey
From underground to trees so high
Mingling with butterflies so pale/or fae
To wrench from the whole entity
                 a broken, sullen sigh.

The Purpose

This Blog is for me to keep track of my “creative process” for the entries for the Daniil Pashkoff Prize 2014, mainly.
Yet I will not hesitate to publich not-related writing.