In the rage,
I cut my shape in granite skies,
With horns twisted and skyward
In the rage,
I stand like a gnarled cathedral
Wrought with hot hammers and tongs.
Wild Muses
In the rage,
I cut my shape in granite skies,
With horns twisted and skyward
In the rage,
I stand like a gnarled cathedral
Wrought with hot hammers and tongs.
Nice capture of the antlers in the darkness.
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Thanks Autumn!
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