Good night, my friend, and tell me where are you going again?
Again.
Hearing the Stars, Pt. II: But the Silence
They were and I was, and altogether united and altogether separated, we were.
Whimsy-Roamer
Slog in the Weighs of Barrie
The Art of Being
All I can say is, much like this post, I didn't know how it all started, where it went, and I pray it never concludes. All I knew was that I simply was in that moment, and the precise art of being is one to always be sought but never mastered.
Of Caught-Soughts and Could-Stoods
Tread the world with light-footed dreams Be all that is aught, and a touch of what is naught Do not allow the tempest zephyr streams To knock your block into being caught-sought...
Ever On the Wing, pt. II
Called to be a soldier-king Called to romanticize everything From childhood on to elder spring From alluvial dreams to supernova after-glowing Called to not know where I stand Called to see beyond the borderland From a racing pulse when I fly unmanned From a gratuitous smile when I crash land Yet here I see all that I am... Continue Reading →
On the Backs of Vagabonds
The air I breathe is stifling me I swear I'll run away when I've got all I need to pave The safe road, brick by brick, stone by stone And then I realize the ground ends at the sky So I'll affix some wings and catch the warm breeze in spring But for now in... Continue Reading →
December Rose 