Hark! The rhythm

Hark! The rhythm. The pellet drum rattles. The dance begins. The creation, the annihilation, the fleeing in-betweens, and beyond these appar...

Friday, October 11, 2019

Haven

At the eventide,
that purple twilight hour,
when the day is done,
and the tired birds
return to their haven,
I too retreat.
To my sanctuary, my refuge.
Destination, home.
Synonymous – you.


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