Gathering moss

Gather to me my knights,

unfold the scales of your mail,

as the wraiths of time wail by the second hand that trails.

In the dusk of the night,

I dar3 tread the path of that beacon at midnight.

Then we shall see at dawn,

where all things do yawn,

in the first hour of the twillight morn

I will see your spear,

with my that rear of the axe i weild.

🙄🤖😑♦♥🤔🌘

© oliver a. melendez.

© all artworks and poetry by ohms / @rstydhude

@cp2.xi

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Goodbye Mirkwood

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Such as this is so barren
Fangorn here I come
In these branches I am claustrophobic
To these dried floor you call mud
There are no will’o’wisp that I can see
Even there are no elves that care enough to give us

Bah Mirkwood,  of all places why I stay
Then my question remain where do I go?
Some weary traveler I once heard,  Fangorn should be good
I know not where it is
Thus I uproot myself and time to leave this wretched place
Goodbye Mirkwood