the autumn river warms when strangers strike up a conversation
Tag: monostich
violet butterflies and other things too delicate to name
autumn hills: can you tell between the seven kinds of silence
every ounce of warmth is internalized and consumed by the waking soul
dreams: of emerald fires and smoke spiralling out from the depths of the dark earth
a true advaitic rain falls tonight called on by the forest wild as each drop seeds itself into the barren earth
the thunder warns and great shadows steal morning’s light
the autumn sky darkens: and still a tiny lamp is lit in our hearts
just enough warmth to rouse this frail flesh from bed to light
a pale thin curtain separates us: mynahs on the other side discussing politics
