At the mountain pass ‘twixt Thought and Memory, We meet again, as we seem ought to do. Have you ever sat and watched the horizon here? It’s always red with the color of twilight, Though whether the su...
The rains fell like a widow’s tears that day, mournful for the blood that would soon be spilt. How the water mixed with the earthy ground, giving it the cast of freshly brewed tea. How shameful, then,...
The mind is a bowl,
Collecting the evening dew
As Dharma’s wheel turns.
Soon it is filled to the brim,
And looking within
Shows only the reflection
Of what is without.
How fleeting the image is,
What should I tell you
Of the home you left behind?
Decked in blue and white uniform,
Dots the halls you once walked through.
Your game console,
Standing like a lone sentinel,
As my skin goes cold with awe, I clasp my hands, in prayer, at the rainbow’s end. Perhaps, here, I will find the virtuous gold I’ve searched for in the prophets’ eyes. My chin folds sleepily into my c...
Imagine rolling a boulder up a hill, only to watch it fall again, All the while having a planet chained to your broken, bloodied back. And, if you ever stop to take a breath, a crow comes to tear out ...