Tag: literature

at dawn the field hums almost pretentiously with tiny miracles and lowkey magic

winter the room softens to accommodate uncertainty

when you notice the dragon’s silence: run

for a moment cold waves hesitate before touching the shoreline

by the hour thoughts soften and the world becomes a playground for tyrants

the slow thaw of limbs in blue hour

slow steady beat of the drum night and animal instincts rises to the surface

what little light i get i carry safe and far from the grasp of winter dark

mirrors disguised as portals to places between the stars