"There are coarses of souls that sometimes

rupture to our side of reality. When we travel

the planes of dream we dare these roads

and the spirits that he dormant..."



Evocation



What is this wind we breath

Born of the nether

Eearthwomb that bleeds



First snowfall covers the tress

Over manor of Haven

something stares and breaths



Rose has crossed the coarse of souls

Where oblivious havens he unfold, untold

tales paint the rooms of old

Rose glances the jars just

to wake the dusts of cold



Samhains moon cuades so distant

Wheel of year has turned again

Mirrors prepare to rescave the dormant

greet the sun the morning comes