Eternally frozen in time, this space. It's life slowing with each doggard day, sinking the teeth into the nucleus of what once made it feel immoveable.
Eternally frozen in time, this space. It's life slowing with each doggard day, sinking the teeth into the nucleus of what once made it feel immoveable.
I have occupied this space far too long, I have frequented it on and off since I was but a mere sapling of a human. 15 to be exact. How fickle time is.
“There’s beauty in the morning, there’s sweetness in the May, there’s music in the running stream, and yet [she’s] far away.” An excerpt from a Barry Cornwall alias Bryan Procter poem that made me think of you.
If I bathe the world in sunlight, then you are the reason why the sun exists. You are the effervescence that brings the most warmth and solace to the people it caresses. Your energy exceeds my light, for it dims whenever you are gone.