Stillness. So still, so quiet.
Told through tense interpretation, their tales light the night and meet the morning.
Exaggerated, fabricated praise.
A day about the harbour. A night around a fire.
Momentum felt as sep’rate moments: such is time.
For All The Syllables, The Words…
The sky encompasses the earth.
Written between January, 2016 and August, 2019.
Knaves and jesters, all.
With sweet flowers, go.
A river, there, reflects the moment.
Paralysis of action.
P’rhaps I’ll throw this out on WordPress.
Alone in grief sustained.