She took my hand and led me there.
Look.
Worlds as jewels hang in the abysmal void of bright.
Turbulence, mighty currents flow.
We as dragons soar through empty ocean.
Perched on Isa vantage,
Alfheim and Muspelli hang as jewels in the clear mist.
Gossamer white bright to flaming ruby char.
Twisting and turning,
Void winds churning.
Sudden. Stop.
Still transposition.
Grey huts on desert plains.
The idiot savant stumbles gracefully plucking moist fruit.
And nothing echoes absolute.
Gap var gunnung.