From Storms of Ink & Fire

Artistic paper clouds swarm overhead, though none dare block their guiding candlelight. With fervent minds ablaze, the weavers shed their liquid words from skies of published white. Amidst their turbulent transparent hands and squalls of adamant prolific flames, there teems a river of surreal demands in which the authors know to never tame. The world below is singed by shapeless black, but still it pines for leaves with dusky print. One cannot know when such a hail will slack, for fiction-fall is surely heaven sent. With reckless haste, a writer's deep desires rain down from storms of vivid ink and fire!