only those who kneel will ever know the weight of the stars
Tag: freedom
in a language older than my soul i hear the roots speak
like a lost lover silence clings to brittle bones of branches
drifting disconnected winds rush amok this morning
there is no urgency or consistency in existence but to be as if this being is formless
each note a question and a world crumbles under the weight of that question
a universe built from paper and each fold blacking out a sun
a canvas undone by the artist’s gaze the world vanishes from fingertips
how kind of the autumn lightning to light a cigar
ghosts in the jar pickled with forgotten conversations
elancharan gunasekaran 