novalis
1 min readMar 5, 2019

The triumph of working through:

trunks of ancient trees, glistening clouds,

white-colored petals,

and this nasty

sweetish joy. The weather changes according to the singing

of the birds, the color of your eyes changes

based on my location in space. Like a space capsule, dis

located from earthly time. Like a

disoriented creature, lost

in a darkened wood.

No responses yet