Dirt Shaman Of the dust and dirt – Born to: Hurt Ardent hardened Icy winds – Archers of The Arctic. All upon the heart Pulsating in The dark. Whispering flames of The art. Born to be A rocket. From the very Start. Of the Heart. The third eye That doesn’t lie Reading the pentacles of The oracles ***Cipher Poems ***

<span;>Whether the welkin is painted in shades <span;>of blue or obsidian, <span;>the moon's <span;>ethereal<span;> candlelight <span;>has always dawned a quelling kiss atop <span;>my often somber laced mind, <span;>and smiles to eagerly anticipatory eyes.. <span;>... As " in these moments...