Tome of Witnessings

Upon my hillsides, aspen trees stand vigil. Much like the mountain itself, these trees see all. Many minds link as one. Why do they shiver? What causes them to quake so? Something prowls the cliffs and crags beyond the forests, something the trees are smart enough to fear. A cold

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Perched upon Scrivener’s Point, the spirit of inspiration casts its gaze upon the wilds beyond. Many people, many lives, but always the same spirit. Is that what I think it is? There, floating high on some fluffy collection of water vapor… is that, a castle? Imagination flows — ships in

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Through the Goat’s Teeth, among the northeastern woods, a cloaked figure wanders. It’s so dark; a new moon hovers in the sky. They seem to be following something, but what is hard to say. There! A second cloak moves among pines and quaking aspens. A third. And… is

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