Oh dappled day, you shine on me. I walk, eyes squinting. Tears fall, unaware of their origin. Smiles hide on a face half covered. Bones ache from the stillness that keeps them safe. Time dances on in spite of itself.
Shadows fall quickly in the last days of a terrifically terrible year. In the muck, magic is made, the wellspring of creativity and hope. Understanding good is not possible without seeing its reverse. The balance is where beauty hangs its hat.
Shadows fall quickly in the last days of a terrifically terrible year. In the muck, magic is made, the wellspring of creativity and hope. Understanding good is not possible without seeing its reverse. The balance is where beauty hangs its hat.
