creation is upon us
calls upon us, like the cold-
begging a response.
vagabond minstrel,
slavic seamstress
i have stared into your eyes
and come back all the better.
these words i've tossed into space
and waited for an echo.
nebulous beckoning
into a black hole trapped.
alone, in some fragmented dream
of whitesand beaches
and guava jelly to satiate
the sadness.
-christian kindschy
This has a sort of "resigned but I'm still here" feeling to it.
ReplyDeleteI relate. I will check you out further.