deep into the forest: is where the city goes to die
Tag: poetry
i miss the coast: its sharp edges and unforgiving winds where even the hardest of men turn soft
someone or something unseen clears its throat and the sound hangs strangely in this lonely space
wings flutter and the odd old tree groans
the quiet retreats: imagine a pulse that expands and contracts on contact with sound
rise and fade: glass towers on the horizon obscured by a curtain of haze
water taps lightly waking cold stone
sound lingers in this sacred space of dark deciding on its next course of action
dark before dawn: breathing slows and blends with the quiet
if winter was nothingness then spring must be the paradox from which something was constructed
elancharan gunasekaran 