Northern_Lights_2017

24 Indigo is the color of my soul. Starseeds of knowledge are what is to be sown; into this Beautiful Universe I traverse on a path of Light so diverse. Beyond measure is what I am: Containing Knowledge measureless to man. Truth and Light is for what I stand. Never will I let the darkness be. I will cast it out back into the depths of the shadowy abyss of its own pitch-black eternity. Never will the Darkness rest, except in the shadow of the Light that beats bright within one’s breast. Our heart, our love, is the cure; so I find it my job to spread these words. Never will I let the darkness be. I will cast it back into the shadowy depths of its own pitch-black eternity. For the Light, thy Power, and thy Will let shine so bright: In turn you will Ascend to the Planes of Light. With this ascension you will gain the gift of sight that will save many a life. With this sight save the rest. Let your Will of Fire be their Test: let that flame of passion of love burn brighter than the Brightest Star in a vast immeasurable cosmos in which we are stuck. Save this world or what is left; always remember to shine Brighter than the Darkness that always seems to test. Remember the Power of Light, the sway it has against its foes, and will forever, and always shine bright within the Darkest throws: this light being the light that beats Bright within one’s breast. This light is the heart that lies within that most beautiful assembly of flesh: This light allows Darkness to forever truly rest. Indigo Soul Sean Landrock Diamond encrusted, bejeweled, bestowed upon the grave marker of soul once known. Now forgot with times that pass: Words ring hollow and now sound crass. Sounds bright with laughter of a life done passed, the ghoulish goblins seem to mash, and up and down they seem to go. To carry now a soul once known. The battles they’ve seen have since been dead, to tell a tale that only seems to be now told within their heads. With that thought they unsheathe their swords to fight the battle which no longer storms. With that blade held tight in hand to fend off every battle-worn man, ever vigilant they look all around to look and to listen close for those battle-worn sounds that tear at a heart once renowned. Ever weary of all the sounds, the enemy has seemed to gather all around. With this last breath we draw our swords, to engulf with the fiery passion of battle, conquering the enemy hordes. As Goblins Mash Sean Landrock