Crushed Lips. Colour me in every eye. I meet your question.
My metal fingers melt into the cracks of your palm.
Connecting the air of the skin, to the flesh, to the bones, and what fills the space in between.
What exists in this vivid, yet completely still moment is in every footstep I touch,
and leave behind.
Dark, Light, Vertical, Horizontal & Round In Time.
Wieght pushes weightless.
I am in every past and every future.
I bleed for the earth.
A braided past – as a torch to an invitation to fight for what you know. You can already do.
Gently I walk by your side and we get to a destination.
As a place a seed in your hand for you
to n a m e.
U N N M D
Related Blogposts
Finding that your words are missing did you rip them out? Finding my own words are now missing will they come back? Shards of acuity gone the ability to write bereft The austere void now present and my hand …
With The Untamed I learned patience in awareness and how to bring another into that very space of awareness. With The Gardener I learned to measure one’s words by one’s actions in subtle yet heart-warming hospitality. With The (w)Hole I learned trust and the naked emancipation of one’s desire as…