maybe you do feel it like i do the warmth and gentleness in our bones
winter at dusk if backspaces could erase the soul
wraith like minnows glide in the shallow parts of the creek as the day warms and the forest comes to life
winter’s soul: the days to spring are recorded in the stars
in a world that is unbecoming of any form of existence and strangely love exists
wallow in the dust of desires that has culminated in this egoistic tree of flesh
guided by the light of the waning moon winter crows cross the void of night
with each breath the forest remembers in algorithm: leaves that hang free=0 leaves that fall=1
we wake only to rush off into the madness and forget that dreams are our source of power
at dawn the field hums almost pretentiously with tiny miracles and lowkey magic
elancharan gunasekaran 