Stories, yet to be told

Upon existing

Breathing through the fumes

And layers of mist and rain

Landing in my palm

Holding my hand

As the moon whispers

From the sky above

 

Figures, glimps of traces

Stories

Yet to be told

 

The sun went to sleep with a dim coral light

Slightly surrounded itself by a glowing silhouette with a string

Pulling on the curtains of the night sky

Containing she shining supermoon

In which I slightly met the day before when I all alone

Exited the craters of the black desert of the raw force of natures power to destruct and deploy

Met the owl’s calling one another across the big area of birch trees

“Oh hi”, as the owl turned it’s head against my sight, said, followed by the performing swayingg wings for the farewell and goodbye

In the somehow complete silence that seemed to surround this intense black desert space

 

 

I bathed in the ocean

Before driving across the land

Shedded away the leftovers of the trembling sensations in my feet

Transmuting something within that no words yet can describe

Beside being within me, between the body of the moon and I

 

 

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