KosherEd

Ringwraiths Lying silent, wrapped in meager sheets, the biting cold prevents me From my lovely sleep, prolonging haunting visions left from tales of old. Feeling through the darkness, grabbing books and tomes to ease the foulness Creeping through the darkness of my heart: the fears that were untold. Howling winds that chill and sear the bones are tearing through the cold, Bitter, burning, biting cold. Finding light to read the ancient words, the fear that goads me forwards Halts my progress through the text, but pages and pages do still unfold.   Tales of myth and legend tell of Nazgul leaving none unrended Speak as though it were but lege