An arresting gaze over such sonic vastness, Volcanic sentinels, lords over a svelte greatness, Imaginations run wild, made of cold breath, And to die up here would be a death pointless.
An arresting gaze over such sonic vastness,
Volcanic sentinels, lords over a svelte greatness,
Imaginations run wild, made of cold breath,
And to die up here would be a death pointless.
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francis_bede
francis_bede Author of Bad Clergy and other poetics.
Autoplay OFF   •   a month ago
Mt Wellington (kunyani), Hobart

An arresting gaze over such sonic vastness, Volcanic sentinels, lords over a svelte greatness, Imaginations run wild, made of cold breath, And to die up here would be a death pointless.

Upon her head’s crowns the seasons vary, Mutable weathers muses, wistful, contrary, The mountain’s moods frighten a looming sun, Cut by dense cloud, made with Hun fury.

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