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Home in their arms

Home in their arms An autumnal reflection on the enduring comfort of parental love, where every season feels beautiful, sheltered, and care...

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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