Years crash together into a singular moment.
Open yourself to the surroundings —
the beehives and the willow trees, the slow whistle of summer wind;
the angle of teardrops touching down on soil.
You are the traveler; your mask constructed,
somehow drawn into the
embrace of your emerald comb.
No longer thinking that the years discolor your skin
but embracing the thorns,
embracing everything.
#traveler
trail yarrow
@spare vectorCould this potentially be considered happy??
trail yarrow
@hard hinge This one’s a spontaneous poem actually, I did in 1 take (with some slight tweaks after)
hard hinge
Your usage of imagery is always something I love-envy-admire-jealous of.
trail yarrow
Welll
You yourself can do some things that I can’t do