And even still, I sing of dreams
As they claim I've turned from light—
But in brilliance slain I have seen
The crippled beauty of the night
Ascend this broken stair with me—
We'll touch the deadened sky;
We'll search the heavens for our sins,
Wrapped in gloried lie

Our stars are dead and now I find—
As our bloodied hands unfold—
What grace we held has struck us blind,
For these stars were ever cold.
_

Photoshop 7.0. This is yet another attempt at depicting a character that has constantly haunted my imagination... I always find myself returning to his story in my art and writing. Some of you may recall older images of Tassaiah. This is the first time I think I've really captured him: bitter, depraved, heartless, lonely, sad, only a shell of the magnificent creature he once was.

Do take a look at rthe details if you have time. [link] [link] [link]