To see more than the depth of the day,
Its extended hand over the longings
So profound, yet they voice-timid and small
But brave enough to gather the length of
The morn, the noon, the even...while all
May succumb to the lost light; the brighter one;
To the light found, only enough to draw
Lines around the solid self’s, of mine and
The one's I have left long behind.
What it becomes to wear a reason
For a question untamed? What it
Becomes of reason that cannot
Conceive an answer.
Dusk - In this dusk I wish to be the breeze drifting through fragrant gardens, past crickets and frogs, faeries and mushrooms, through mossy ferns and pine tr...
1 week ago