A long journey.
Home or elsewhere. Pre-verbal
Mutterings. Languor.
I climb to where you are.
Clouds are empty
With a whole life ahead.
Birds turn into
Burnt Flanks of horizon.
Give off some sort of internal
Heat.
A long journey.
Home or elsewhere. Pre-verbal
Mutterings. Languor.
I climb to where you are.
Clouds are empty
With a whole life ahead.
Birds turn into
Burnt Flanks of horizon.
Give off some sort of internal
Heat.