Flickering like candle-flame in the wind

The edge of vision otherwise dark

They are the dreameater moths

Fluttering in the edgewise gap between this world and the fantasy realm

Clawmarks on my memories

One of the reasons I’m so damn good at living for the present is that I can’t remember the past.

Chasing the Edge

The Edge is that which lights. That which sets the blood pumping. That which sparks the soul.