Choose Each Day
I won’t be nourished by the glittering parade of the soon-to-be-forgotten. Rivers run white in the first storms of November, mountains ring with the sound
November 27, 2016
10 Comments
I won’t be nourished by the glittering parade of the soon-to-be-forgotten. Rivers run white in the first storms of November, mountains ring with the sound
Looking to the east nothing takes shape in the grey sky, light slowly rising on the undefined. Before the made there is the void, the
What coils out from within, dark and inscrutable, with no regard for all we’ve made, how we reach to each other in the night. One
Bordering the sea mountains fold in rounded loaves to lay their feet in the great stone bowl. As the sea empties with the pull of