"There are coarses of souls that sometimes rupture to our side of reality. When we travel the planes of dream we dare these roads and the spirits that he dormant..." 
Evocation 
What is this wind we breath 
Born of the nether 
Eearthwomb that bleeds 
First snowfall covers the tress 
Over manor of 
Haven something stares and breaths 
Rose has crossed the coarse of souls 
Where oblivious havens he unfold, untold tales paint the rooms of old 
Rose glances the jars just to wake the dusts of cold 
Samhains moon cuades so distant 
Wheel of year has turned again 
Mirrors prepare to rescave the dormant greet the sun the morning comes