Going down to the valley of hell,
Away from the mountain of light.
Drawn to the darkness within himself,
Secure in his own fighting might.
...
The hypnotic flow of
Swiftly shifting colours;
Hurtling towards you
Only to disappear before your eyes.
...
the rain falls
hurtling, tumbling, trickling
the anguished wind calls
like the sob of a changeling
...
The gentle caress of the young breeze.
The fiercer pull of the wind as it rushes up from the lake.
...
Fallen Angel
Going down to the valley of hell,
Away from the mountain of light.
Drawn to the darkness within himself,
Secure in his own fighting might.
Leaving behind the white elven halls,
With their spires of music and song.
Turning his eyes, his bright foolish eyes
Blinded to the depths of his wrong.