The boulder’s time is not my own
The boulder’s time is not my own,and yet we meet, just in time.In a brief instant, the rhythmsbrush, embrace, and intertwine.Then they release, and each onefollows its own course. The stone has traveled farther than I ever could.It seems to have come from...
Waiting Ghosts
There was the memory, the reflection, and the absorption. All in one. The rocks looked at me, and I saw my own breath feeding the life that lived in their small niches.A disruption in time, a discrepancy between two worlds touching for an undefined period.I thought I...