The road is cold here, like a black river.
Our homes drift between walls of steel and stone.
The wind comes, and it makes our world shiver.
The rain falls, and it soaks through to the bone.
Our ferryman calls, guiding souls along;
his lone cry sounds like a bell in the night.
Fires dwindle, and our ghosts murmur song
and soon, even the moon has lost its light.
But even in this dark, you are a star
whose glow floods the sky with a blaze of fire,
stills the gale, catches the rain, heals the scar,
and with broad wings, brings us ever higher.
In this broken city, you’re all I need.
As the world ends, I’ll follow your lead.
Wayward Twitter sketches - Collecting some of the rough sketches I've shared on Twitter for Wayward(Ongoing personal project)
1 week ago