An echo came as cold as death Long are the paths, of shadow made Where no foot's print is ever laid No moon is there, no voice, no sound Of beating heart; a sigh profound Once in each age as each age dies Alone is heard far far it lies. Upon the plain, there rushed forth and high Shadows at the dead of night and mirrored in the skies Far far away beyond might of day And there lay the land of the dead of mortal cold decay. Summoning - Land of the Dead
I love the contrast of the all dark - and then the rose. The poetry is beautifully dark as is your doll.
The picture is so haunting and beautiful. I love it! And the poem is just the extra icing on the cake to make the picture even more swoon worthy. Thanks so much for sharing!
Aw who wouldn't enjoy an atmospheric portrait like this, and the Summoning-y vibes just add to it's perfect gloominess