Month: June 2016


you are glass, i am cut crystalline child. we are spectrum on the carpet, we move patterns on floor tiles. the open road is calling out our names, lets leave tonight, find some sun-drenched, wondrous elsewhere, through the windscreen pours white light. Advertisements


that month was all frosty morning walks, the anticipation of things yet to come, and the scent of incense, rising through the air in mysterious, momentary patterns. i explored labyrinthine abbeys, climbing hundreds of crooked, centuries-old and well-worn steps, and was for my effort rewarded with a rooftop garden sanctuary in which i could catch my breath. that place was like something out of a dream, an ancient courtyard walled with granite archways and stained glass windows, quietly alive even in the heart of winter, with delicate grasses and wildflowers.


mountainous peaks of light, a passing glimpse into a shadowed world just out of sight. i’ll turn bedsheets to glacial fields or some furious, heart of winter, storming ocean scene, which quite fittingly mirrors my thoughts. what did you think you’d discover on some distant shore? run to the west coast, perhaps you’ll find peace of mind disguised as mist and pine.