to the mynah i say: anatomy separates us but dreams connect us
Tag: fiction
the pilgrim does not discriminate between quiet and absolution the path is all that matters
half moon: between the roil of waves unfinished futures are shaped
spring: gently made of the desires we yearn to hold
illuminated by quiet street lamps a ball of mist dances on its axis
lying in the darkness you come to realize the one truth: where we wake is where we end
filling the mute man’s moans with birdsong spring mynahs puff their chests with pride
dark before dawn the rain has a mind made of quantum drizzles
apocalypse denied: god bless the mynah who spoke the tongue of the serpent
the spring moon grips the resting mind: ethereal roots fraying and untangling the strands seperating conscious from the subconscious pulling you deep into the realm of dreams
