Out across the barren moors
where the bones of giants lie,
Past pools of nothing
reflecting empty sky.

Where the land grows thin
stretched between two skies,
Then you know you've reached at last
where the dragon flies.


The Lonely Rider, once again. This time perhaps rather farther afield than usual.

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Another in the Lonely Rider series (it's ongoing, so there may be more). There are two ways you can look at this drawing: the first is that there are pools reflecting the sky. The other is that they are not pools, but holes in a paper-thin land, showing the sky beneath it.

Colored pencils, art and related prose © myself, yadayada… Enjoy!