Alchemisland

I’m in a grid of spheres, it’s odd, 777 added totals the tiersThe lightning fork the branches veer toward Yesod from Hod; Mortal to GodTower in the fog: laid out on cold stone the tat of old croneSplayed out her bold bones the twats I’ve old known and outgrown like kid’s bones.Charms spun on bone…