Don't mind the time of the night this is posted at, those on the west. Or do, given it is on purpose because of the title. Just a little draconic whim.

While I was making this, a thought occurred to me. I was reminded of the famous saying of the fallen tree.

If a monster screams in the forest but no one is there to hear it, does he truly exist?

What does a monster do when there is no one around to terrorize with its presence? Does he still continue to be a nondescript horror? What is the nature of the beast?

I have much to say.

During the night, shapes underneath the shadows become absorbed in abstraction, and as always, the mind runs wild under the influence of its own imagination. Things, nondescript, are seen as conjured by one's mind. Are they foliage obscured by the darkness? Or perhaps tendrils of darkness? Or a pair of black suns, as suggested by a friend.

The leaves seem almost serene, windy and sensual. Yet their shapes are wild. Spiked. Perhaps a testament to the raw cruelty that such beauty can muster. As nature always is. And beneath, monsters are born much the same way as these tranquil leaves and plants. They both belong in it.

This piece was inspired by, listening to a theme from the band "Rhapsody of Fire", album "Into The Legend", Winter's Rain. It made me remember something important. Link to YT seems barred for some people, but if you're interested you'll still figure it out somehow. All I'll say is that that theme has a bit of a coincidental note progression at its apex. Just after the third minute mark.