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Monday blues

Monday starts with clouds. Rain, traffic, files and long hours - the same old weekdays. Swamped calendars, papers pile, already - thoughts o...

Wednesday, September 2, 2015

The secret atop the hill

The eerie halo, blanketing the sacred ruins atop the hill, is torn apart by fluorescent flickers on moonless nights. Faint, almost like an illusion. Imaginations conjure bygone romances to life; reality, wizened manuses of a priest. Temple-tales weave themselves into our eventides.


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8 comments:

Since every thought is a seed, I am looking forward to a delicious harvest.

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