on the eve of epiphany . . .
evanescence folds upon infinity, particles meld
in quiet pools of submerged galaxies resonant stillness
the shapeless form of being, feeling what/is before knowing
i speak my name out loud, in syllables. we meet again, my love
this time the ocean lulls . . .
this time the ocean lulls . . .
# 2
Very similar scene here. Except that it's grey and miserable.
ReplyDeletethe sunset at low tide, my scenery
ReplyDeleteyour scenery, your soul
ReplyDelete:-)
(speechless)
hello, soul-sister
ReplyDeletenever ever stop dreaming, won't we?
a hug across the miles,
tanya