if i could paint this landscape in braille, so that you and i could move across it with fingers, eyes shut, and softly bring to life the willows, the brooks, the dew. If we could penetrate the veil that divides us, the faultless skins of darkness trapped in our minds, where dizziness and laughter turn and spin to the endless void. our fingers could meet on a mountain, for a moment. while dawn sings her dirges bent over the ashes of yesterday.
No comments:
Post a Comment