The deafening quiet
of the mirror falling
breaking into shards of rain
The welcome filling
of unwelcome cracks
in the halls of the criminally sane.
Yasmin never ceases to amaze and inspire! ❤
I lose myself ...among wildflowers.. I mind-cut through the rust of mundane thoughts... resuscitating words and laying them out in the radiance of the sun. the sun seeps gold through my hair....awakening slumberous reflections.. words shape themselves...cutting through the miasma.. my gut goes candid..I retreat into where I bleed alone.. holding on tightly to the unwavering companionship of my fervor.. an organic wind carries syllables to me.. I play my pen a quill haloed by mentors of destiny..destiny slams its door..like a zealot with the devil in his eyes. words course through the virgin of my sternere.. I have come home... #haibun
…the blue that was balmed
in a constant, gentle stream.
Strong and with healing purpose.
Vibrating with the tenor of a generation.
So he carefully strung his violin with them, using the instructions in the back of the book he was holding. A journal he had found in, of all places, the attic.
It’s 11 pm. So technically
we’re going into the twelfth hour.
Except it’s almost midnight.
So it’s the 24th hour.
And that gets me reeling.
Why is it so hard for me to count past 12
and go backwards at the same time?
She didn’t say anything.
Why wasn’t she saying anything?
But she had.
She just couldn’t hear her.
She had always heard her through her heart, and now it was frozen to her cheeks.
