World: Dismantling
Hang onto the morning at its smallest just before the sky cracks to let in the morning’s rays. Remember the passing seasons and the gait of wisteria often buried under raucous life The cold summer sun resting quietly between satin curtains. Hold both the silence and the noise in the same hand because this world is burning too fast to hold it all. As you listen for the horizon noise of trains going, people rushing ask if you reach for the bits of this world before they become buried, returning to ash returning to the Earth for eternity, for infinity I plea, listen to the woods glowing in...