imagine waking up in a nest filled with iron winged scorpions
Month: August 2025
from the mouth of shadows violet rivers spill forth and race towards the end of time
even under the weight of stars the forest grim stands its ground
summer dusk the smell of ash overpowers frail human senses
storms buried beneath tongue the pilgrim hums a tune of solitude
summer after dawn your shadow becomes the shape of rain
rebellion ignites in the hollow of trees sway and march into the morning mist
nap on summer sand and the ground devours dreams
herons rise on wings of smoke as rivers split into fire and silence
hollowed but hallowed where’s the sense in that
elancharan gunasekaran 